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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422888">Habits</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone_Raine/pseuds/Persephone_Raine'>Persephone_Raine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gun Kink, Implied Sexual Content, Knifeplay, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence, Wax Play</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:46:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone_Raine/pseuds/Persephone_Raine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaking her head, she ran her fingers through her messy hair. “It’s more interesting than it sounds.” She confessed, head tilting when her smile warmed up with an emotion he couldn’t place. “Thank you.”</p><p>“For?” John pressed, confused. “Just doin’ what everyone should and bein’ nice to ya?”</p><p>Nora nodded, her smile falling when she looked down at the couch cushions, fingers fiddling with the torn holes brandishing them here and there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Deacon/Female Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hiiiiiii guys. Just a little oneshot bc my usual flow has been disturbed. But hey, I'm alive, and inspired, enjoy this smut.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Goodneighbor was not the sort of town people visited unless they were trying to frown their woes and hide from whatever disturbance haunted their very essence of life. Rarely, did the Commonwealth’s favorite lone survivor trickle into town. Like most sane people, Nora avoided it like the plague, residing prominently in the shelter of the Big Green Wall, hiding under false pretenses like his brother before he had. Tonight, though, Hancock caught the sight of them pretty long legs cruising down the Third Rail’s steps in that fancy little vault suit of hers that clung to every inch of her curvy pinup body just right. He followed the length of her limbs to the rounded out silhouette of her hips and the perky butt that not even her shadow could hide. His ebony eyes drank her in like the whiskey clenched in his fingers, drunker on the sight of this pretty woman than the liquor he’s downing.</p><p>Her hair, usually kept short, had grown out, but frazzled from whatever battle she either won or lost, on her way here. Narrowing his eyes, the ghoul inspected for any scorched material of the blue jumper, any tears exposing that delicious skin he longed to taste. What? He was still a man and could marvel at such a timely beauty, appreciating how the rads had hardly touched her since she sprung up from her little freezer. “Well, well…” He purred out, turning on the stool at the bar, lips curving up into that dastardly charming simper he wore so well, for someone in his condition. “If it ain’t my favorite vaultsickle.” He taunted, though the softness in his eyes hadn’t been missed by the guest of honor.</p><p>Those hazel eyes turned onto his face, the ghosts of misery clouding up her russet eyes, even from the distance he was sitting at. He hated himself when an unfamiliar burn of pestilence made him fist his drink that much tighter to fight the rage bubbling up inside him, longing to hurt whoever hurt her, in return. “Hancock.” She greeted, her voice ringing out like bells, nonchalant despite her harrowing woeful stare. She crossed the threshold and sat next to him, flinching when she shifted her torso to fit better on the podium.</p><p>Cocking a bare eyebrow, he asked, “Ya feelin’ all right there, sister?” Though he didn’t need her to answer to know somethin’ was eatin’ her up that wasn’t him. “What brings you to Goodneighbor?”</p><p>“Needed a drink that doesn’t taste like synth cleaner,” Nora answered, her lips forced up into a smile that didn’t quite place right on her sullen features. “I’m fine, just haven’t had time to stop in a while. Figured I’d be safe here for a night or two.”</p><p>Humming, John downed the rest of his whiskey in reply. They shared no more words, John Hancock was gonna treat this pretty little hero to a relaxing night instead. Anything to make her smile. “Put her on my tab, Chuck.” The mayor requested with that charming smile that still couldn’t hide that soft-skinned blonde he once was. </p><p>Mr. Handy gave him a knowing side-eye with his one good optic but said not a thing in response to it. “What’ll we be havin’, love?” He asked in a generously kind tone he hardly used with anyone else. It was hard to look at Nora, knowing her story, and to be frothy with her even in the slightest. “Bottle of wine?” He chided.</p><p>To Hancock’s surprise, Nora laughed then, as if that was the funniest thing she’d heard in a long time. “Don’t think because I’m a lady, I need something soft like that.” Leaning an elbow on the counter, she rested her chin in her hands. “Bourbon on the rocks.” She said distantly, staring into the middle of the space before her in a trance, she was anywhere but here, typical for this sort of town and scenario. </p><p>The two sat in comfortable silence, truthfully, John didn’t trust himself to make any remarks right now that weren’t even dirty. His crush on Nora had been picked up by Fahrenheit herself, the first time those pretty hips swung into his town, and she shook like a toothpick in the mouth of a filthy caravaneer, looking more like a lost puppy dog. John thought for sure she’d be a wandering cause, they’d find her wasted either by super mutants or raiders, but she proved everyone wrong. She wasn’t that same softened person anymore. Part of Hancock longed to have that petulant innocence of hers back, even if it did make her appear weak at first. There was something so goddamn… Pure about it.</p><p>Another kink he didn’t realize he had until Nora.</p><p>Now, she was like the rest of the empty souls walking around. She was on the mission of her life to recover her boy, though, something in his gut whispered in his ear that he wouldn’t be found. Her stool scraped against the Rail’s floor ringing out like nails on a chalkboard, Magnolia’s voice just angelic enough to cover the sound if you weren’t right next to it like he was. Blinking back to reality, he turned to watch her retreating figure. “Hey, doll,” He vocalized, chasing up behind her, “Where is ya goin’ in such a haste, huh? Tell ol’ Johnny what’s rufflin’ ya feathers?”</p><p>He caught her by the wrist right at the end of the stairs before it transfixed up to the busy nightlife of Goodneighbor again. The rough pads of his fingers rested under her wrist just in time to register the tremor in her arms. Frowning, he reached around to touch her chin, tilting it towards him. “Hey…” Hancock whispered tenderly, uncharacteristically for him, catching the tormented eyes that churned up misery in his gut from how devastated she appeared. “Nora, talk to me.” He stated solidly, losing all of his seductive simpers.</p><p>He kept his voice low so only she could register it, out of sake for her and himself, in case anyone bothered eavesdropping. “It ain’t like ya to stop by Goodneighbor, not even for a drink. You’re tryin’ to outrun somethin’. I know that look all too well.” His rugged face sweltered with concern, too much to keep Nora’s eyes from glossing over with the fiery burn of tears. </p><p>She said nothing. Searching his eyes, the blockade of her reality and his fell between them detaching the sole survivor from John Hancock that very moment. She was trying to figure out what it was the mayor wanted from her, why her needs should even be any of his concern. “Not here.” She stated, the moment’s reticence spanning four miles wide where the woman and the ghoul proceeded to talk with their eyes. </p><p>“Then come back to my place, we can keep the party goin’ there without wanderin’ eyes.” He offered, sliding his palms up her arms to fully turn the woman to face him now. “Ain’t no harm in confidin’ in a friend, plus, I might have a thing or two to calm your nerves.”</p><p>Nora knew he meant chems, and in her inebriated state, she’d do anything to get out of her head. Her heart jackhammered in her chest, momentarily stunned by the offer. She might’ve been frozen two hundred and something years, but men never changed. “Sure.” She shuddered in agreement, the nerves more obvious now when she retreated herself from his hold, looking up the stairs with a slow nod. “Let’s go back to your place.”</p><p>The walk there shouldn’t have been as protracted as it was, John kept talking, about what, not even he knew. His head was thundering from the rush of alcohol and Jet, riding that high until he had to close his eyes for good. Noting the anxiety in Nora’s fiddling fingers, he reached down to cover them with his own affectionately. “I ain’t gonna force ya to do somethin’ ya don’t wanna.” He told her, “I’m a gentleman, compared to some of these other bastards paradin’ around here.”</p><p>Nora smiled then, it was genuine. Her cheeks lifted up until the apples of them squinted the end of her pretty russet eyes, lashes dancing like spider legs against the brisk chill of the wind picking up in New England. “Thank you.” She said. “Just for uh… Even giving me the time of day, I guess.”</p><p>“We all got a story.” John hummed, flipping his lucky cigarette from his carton he fished from his jacket. He offered a fresh pack to her, which she declined. “You’ve been good to me and my folks, ‘bout time someone repaid the favor to you.” That was a sincere statement. She’d supplied Daisy with her books, kept MacCready out of Gunner proposals, and stopped Bobbi when she attempted to rob him of his shit. </p><p>“Didn’t think people had that sort of thing in them anymore. Humanity,” She noted, the anguish absorbing in her being like she was a sponge dumped in a bucket of water. “Spent so long fighting my way out of bullshit I… I almost forgot…” She broke off into an eerie silence leaving the sentence deafened, the haunted awning pressing over her once again.</p><p>Hancock pushed the Statehouse door open for her. “Forgot what?” He asked, head tilting as he tried in vain to decipher what was going through this woman’s head.</p><p>“How things used to be.”</p><p>Upstairs, the two sat perched across from one another. Hancock at his chem table reloading on his weapon of choice, mentats. He needed to be awake and aware of this conversation, he figured. Nora was sipping bourbon out the bottle, the tears on her cheeks long dried. They’d rolled down when she least expected them to, and John comforted her all the while. “What was it like… Back then?” He asked, fingers fiddling with the mentat bottle, back temporarily to her.</p><p>“Lush. I still remember how the Commons were beautiful with gardens, always lively with the most individualist of people. Hippies, politicians, teens on their first date, I think about Nate and I’s date, I was seven months pregnant and he took me there on my lunch break when he returned from war. Best surprise of my life.”</p><p>Ahhh, there it was. Her husband had been one of the remainings that got sent home before the bombs dropped. “That sounds… I can’t tell if it’s comforting, or more depressing.” John admitted, unable to stop himself.</p><p>Nora snorted, chugging back another gulp of the shit she swore off before the bombs dropped. She was a goody-two-shoes and everyone knew it. Funny how serious shit changed things. Hancock turned back then, bare eyebrows raised when the bottle clunked back down on the coffee table between them and almost half of it was empty from her alone. “Yeah. Tell me about it.” She sniffed, wiping her weeping nose on the back of her sleeve.</p><p>Catering his flask to his dingy chest, John plopped down on the sofa across from her, legs spread as he gave in to the body weighted high. “Is that what’s on your mind so heavy right now?” He asked, his sharp eyes not missing the way her eyes dropped down to examine his crotch. “It’s in working condition, don’t worry.” He smirked, trying to contain his laughter at how big her eyes prodded from her head.</p><p>Pink crept up her neck coloring her cheeks from beneath her collar. “S-sorry.” She whispered, looking away to brandish another swig of bourbon.</p><p>Excitement tingled his whole being. “Don’t be sorry, it’s natural.” He replied, head tilting for a moment. There were signals all over the place, and fucking up with Nora was the last thing he wanted to do. “What’s got ya so glum?”</p><p>“Everything. I should have died instead of Nate, I-I shouldn’t be here.” She stressed with a forceful laugh that sounded bitter like freshly squeezed lemons down the back of her throat. “The world I knew is… Gone. Destruction lies in its wake, there’s giant creatures, bugs, mortifying people who kill to survive. It sounds stupid, but this isn’t what life was two hundred years ago.” Nora’s voice quivered with the onslaught of sobs. “I’m having a hard time adjusting, just… It gets to me sometimes.”</p><p>Waking up to this pivotal world would scare the fuck out of him. In fact, he’d been through something similar himself. “That’s kinda how I felt when I turned ghoul.” He admitted, whiskey and cigarette bit murmur warming up every part of Nora then. Goosebumps sprinkled across her arms, hairs on the back of her neck thriving to attention. </p><p>“Really?” Her eyes gained color then, sparkles of life thrusting back into the honey green eyes of hers. </p><p>“It was painful, to say the least. Watching pieces of me burn and shred away, it was a whole new world and experience for me from then on.” John said, looking down at his pants and brushing away the bits of cigarette ashes coloring his lap. “I wasn’t gonna be the soft-skinned boy who ran from Diamond City, from then on, it was a moment of reckoning. I had to pick myself up and deal with the cards I’d been dealt with. The only difference between you and me is I knew it was gonna happen.”</p><p>“The uncertainty was… So much.” Nora shuddered then, her fingers loosening on the neck of the glass when the alcohol began to relax her whole being. Guess that’s why you don’t chug. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She whispered, unsteadily stretching her arm to set her bottle down on the table, wavering from the current of alcohol rushing on her like a quarterback from a football game. “Fucking hell, they don’t even know how baseball was played. Bats are called Swatters.”</p><p>Catching onto the slow creeping slur in her tone, John reached across to help her before she dropped the bottle on the wooden floors. “I liked the idea of people being tortured for fun.” He chuckled, earning him a slap on the arm for that. “C’mon, it’s better than people chasing a ball around a diamond.” John cursed, grinning fully now when she chortled.</p><p>Shaking her head, she ran her fingers through her messy hair. “It’s more interesting than it sounds.” She confessed, head tilting when her smile warmed up with an emotion he couldn’t place. “Thank you.”</p><p>“For?” John pressed, confused. “Just doin’ what everyone should and bein’ nice to ya?”</p><p>Nora nodded, her smile falling when she looked down at the couch cushions, fingers fiddling with the torn holes brandishing them here and there.</p><p>It occurred to John then that she must’ve been bravin’ this land all on her own the long couple of weeks he hadn’t heard from her. No wonder she was so tight with suppressed, fucked emotions. “Well, hey,” John croaked, getting to his feet and crossing the distance between them. He knelt in front of her reaching out to hold her chin, tilting her to look his way. “If ya ever in doubt, just know ya got a friend here for ya.”</p><p>Nora took him by the face pressing the most innocent of kisses against his thin ruined lips. Shock riddled Hancock’s whole being, for one, not expecting it, but two, his unspoken prayer of the night had been answered. Nora tasted of holy water cleansing him of all his wrongdoings. His hands went to her hair tangling in the mess of it in hopes of keeping her as close as he could, drinking her up until she had nothing left. She pulled back with a gasp, staring at him with those glassy drunken eyes. “You’re not in the right state of mind to be making decisions like this.” He breathed a little heavier, curling his fingers between hers, kissing every single knuckle.</p><p>“One thing about me,” She panted lightly, gripping his ruffled shirt with her free hand, “I know what I want, and I’m not drunk enough to regret this. Kiss me again.” </p><p>John was in no position to protest and gave her exactly what she asked for. </p><p>Clothes were strewn across the floors leading a trail to his bed, his hands curved around her thighs straddling his waist, relishing in how soft and warm her lips were on his neck, trailing down his abdomen. No one had shown his radiation eaten body this much attention in… Well, years, truthfully. He had a thick no-touch policy when it came to someone raining affections, it was always fast and greasy and pointless. With Nora, he wanted to take his time and relish in every fantasy he ever had with her. </p><p>She reached where the tip of his cock rested on his stomach, meeting her eyes even in the dark of his bedroom. It was impossible not to see the bright white of her eyes when she was as pristine as porcelain even with bruises and scrapes. Her body was as clean as a bleached surface. “Fuck, Nora…” John drawled, her lips caressing the bottom of his cock with longing pecks. </p><p>He felt her smile against his length. “Say my name again.” She breathed, hot tight lips enveloping the tender head of his cock, suckling like a piece of candy. Testing the waters. </p><p>He was so fucked. “Nora.” He groaned out a little louder, instinctively bucking up into her mouth when she swallowed him whole, his back arching up. He hissed through his teeth, his hand caressing her chin as her head bobbed expertly on his throbbing member. Her mouth sucked nice and wet, obscene noises springing up each time he hit the back of her throat. She gagged a few times, pulling off to catch her breath as he hand pumped him in time with her absent head.</p><p>He sat up to kiss her, tasting himself on her tongue, but wanting nothing but her attention. He longed for this moment, and he’ll be damned if he didn’t treat her in a way she’d never forget. A shocked grunt breathed into his mouth when he rolled them over, fitting himself right between her legs, palming her warm breasts in his palms. His thumbs brushed her erect nipples, her mouth detaching when she strangled out a gasp from the tiny motion. “Sensitive?” He chuckled hoarsely, teeth dragging along her lower lip as he repeated them again.</p><p>He heard her hair ruffling against the pillows as she nodded, feeling her body push up into him. “Yes.” She squeaked, as if ashamed. </p><p>His mouth replaced his fingers, flicking his tongue around the bud of them earning a high pitched keen that went straight to his dick. He slid his hand down to feel between her wet folds, her legs opening up for him to fit right between them like a puzzle piece. Perfection, he thought, hopelessly in love with this moment he was presented. He found her swollen clit flicking it with tender little strokes, her thighs clenching on his sides for a moment from the sensation. “Hancock.” She breathed, her body rolling in time with his fingers. </p><p>There was nothing better than this intimate moment, knowing it was him getting her off. He was making her create these angelic sounds. “There we go.” He chuckled, kissing down her thin stomach, sliding his fingers down to her entrance the moment his mouth found her need. His cock hung heavy between his legs as he flickered his tongue over her womanhood, her sounds answering every sensitive movement. Her fingers curved around his head, hips rolling against his tongue with each wave of pleasure moving through her.</p><p>He curled his fingers right into that spot and she bucked wildly, crying out loud enough for anyone outside to hear. He shivered, curling her legs over his shoulders with intent to drive her absolutely mad with his impressive sex knowledge. “Baby,” She whined, legs tight as a vice around his head as he tickled her clit mercilessly. <em>“Fuck</em>!” She yelled, throaty and wanton as she came right into his mouth filling it with her sweet nectar.</p><p>He retreated enough to feel her jelly-like legs trembling, all because of him. “Had enough?” He asked, lavishing kisses along the inside of her thighs. </p><p>“Fuck me.” She panted, reaching down to cup his face. “Fuck, <em>John,</em> please.”</p><p>He didn’t need any more incentive at all. Gripping the blankets by her head to power his hips, he dipped down to swallow her mouth with his own the same moment he pushed in, careful to not make her any more uncomfortable. There was no friction from her wet insides, but he could feel the stretch when he pressed in, inch by inch. Her legs locked him in shoving the rest of his length inside her until she bottomed out, muffling a sharp moan inside of his mouth when he fit right against her cervix it felt like.</p><p>They rested like that for a moment, the back of her fingers tracing the side of his face, both of them breathing heavily as they smiled down at each other. “I’ve been wanting this since I first saw you and you stabbed Finn for me,” Nora confessed, her chest rising and falling with every heavy gasp.</p><p>He felt her soft breasts, kissing up her neck, biting down to mark his territory as he moved, deep and slow. “You drove me wild, I was hopin’ you’d come back someday,” Hancock growled in her ear, feeling her arms lock around his neck. “You feel better than I ever imagined.”</p><p>Those words unlocked some next level of freak, two hundred years without intimacy would do that to you, he supposed. His hips picked up the pace, sliding in and out of her almost effortlessly. “Yes.” She groaned, head falling back each time he thrust right into her guts. “You don’t have to take it easy on me.” She informed him, reaching up to hold his chin. “Fuck me as you mean it.”</p><p>Hancock moaned then, an absolute slave to this woman. “Such filthy words from such a pretty woman.” He slammed into her in one fluid stroke and she cried out once more.</p><p>Sweat coated her body, legs by her head as he pounded into her with record speed. Her hands gripped his waist, hair stuck to her face as if she ran a mile or two instead of taking John’s cock like a professional. “I’m gonna cum!” She screamed out, biting down on the pillow to muffle the racing pants, stomach sucking in when his thumb found her clit. </p><p>“Then cum for me, pretty.” He praised, licking the sweat up off her neck. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock, sugar. Don’t hold back on me now.”</p><p>Her back arched up as she came, yanking off of his member with a wet pop from how forceful her orgasm was. “Put it back in, shit, please.” She wrapped her fingers around his member sliding it right back inside of her, and John swore he was gonna bust right then and there.</p><p>“Nora, fuck.” He hissed, dropping her legs so they could go around his waist, their fingers tangling together on the bed, pinning them there. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” He warned, thrusting balls deep and rapidly, the two of them clinging together like their lives depended on it. To John, it truly felt like it did. The room was shaking, pleasure circling him like a serpent. </p><p>“Fill me up, John.” Nora purred in his ear, breath hot and shaky from each wrecked, tired cry of ecstasy. “Fuck, please. I wanna make you feel good too.”</p><p>Ever the giver, John thought with a smile. One, two, and on the third he pressed himself deep enough to hurt, striping her insides with the sting of his cum, listening to the most delicious sound she’d made yet. He saw stars, falling limp against her chest staying buried inside her until he softened back up again. Her arms hugged him close, tenderly stroking the back of his head like he hadn’t just pounded her insides to mush.</p><p>“Holy shit…” She panted, swiping her sweaty hair from her face. </p><p>“That’s an understatement.” Hancock murmured, voice sounding far away. He pulled out feeling the mess they made wetting the bed between their hips. “You okay?” He lifted his chin to see a blissful smile on her face, her lips curved up in a crooked smile. </p><p>“Better than okay.” She whispered, cupping his chin, kissing between his bare eyebrows, then his lips. “Thank you.” She murmured against them.</p><p>Panic stirred in his stomach when she shifted from beneath them, and he thought he’d have to watch her leave him with this newfound drug he was addicted to. “Where ya goin’?” He asked, hoping his voice didn’t give him away with the anxiety he felt.</p><p>Blinking a few times, she lifted up his shirt muttering, “Just cleanin’ up the mess.” Her lips formed a knowing smirk. “Don’t tell me John Hancock was scared of a dame leavin’ his bed after a night like this?”</p><p>If ghouls could blush, he would.</p><p>“Relax.” She chastised with a crooked smile, kissing his chin. “We’re going for round two tomorrow.”</p><p>He smiled, not caring if she could see that tough dick persona right now. “Promise?” He purred, turning to fall on his back, lifting an arm to invite her in after she wiped herself, and him, clean. She lay her head on his chest, arm naturally going around his waist.</p><p>“I’ll promise you the world.” Nora swore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was originally supposed to be a one shot but I've got a random muse. I am now back home and safe, and being forced to quarantine since Jacksonville likes to uh. Not follow protocol. Anywho, here we go.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hancock was always the one to pull the fuck and leave card, so, when Nora pulled it on him, well, he didn’t exactly contemplate why it hurt so bad to find her part of the bed empty. Rolling onto his side, his hand fell where her warm chest had been before he fell asleep. Fingers tangling in the wrinkled sheets instead of her plush skin, he sat up at the waist so the blankets bunched right over his lap coating his unsheathed cock, now limp with the devastation he was left behind with instead of the usual morning wood. “Shit…” The ghoul moaned, voice gravel with the growl of sleep, rubbing his face with his palm tiredly. The lack of nose made it easier for his fingertips to dig into his eye sockets a little harder.</p><p>It was when he turned to fully examine the crevice still cushioned in his mattress when he found the little note scribbled on a torn caravan tour plan, I’ll be back. The only thing his mistress of the night clued in for him in this game of love and lust. Hell. Just lust, any love there may have been might as well be squished with John’s ravenous pride. He knew this game. Head still thundering with the hangover the sunlight brought, he reached beneath his bed for the bottle of bourbon she never finished and chugged like the morning glass of water even a ghoul needed.</p><p>Laying on his bed, jeans over his waist, he lost himself in the jet flashbacks and mental fantasies when Fahrenheit stormed in - unannounced, in his kid’s fashion - and narrowed her eyes at him with heated contempt in her fiery rage. “Do you mind explaining why it’s been twelve hours,” She was panting, he realized, blood covering the front of her shirt. “And we just had a super mutant break-in and you weren’t there?” </p><p>“Looks to me like ya won just fine without me bein’ there.” Hancock drawled, concealing the shock he felt at missing that whole scene with a crippled smile. He must’ve been high. “Long night.” He apologized, sincerity coloring his dark eyes. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Her face grew a furious shade of crimson, stomping over and snatching the Jet inhaler from his hand. “The whole Commonwealth heard, but hello,” Snapping her fingers before his face, the ghoul jumped back, not expecting that sudden action. “You are a mayor. Lady loves come second to our lady, Goodneighbor. Remember? Your people needed you.” She finished with a solemn frown. “Seriously, John.”</p><p>Crap, shit… The ghoul groaned, flopping back against the pillows with his hands covering his face for a moment trying to keep his temperament at bay. “Are ya hurt?” He forced out, dropping his hands back to his sides, using that to set himself up in bed again to observe her. Motioning to her gore infested clothing, “None of that is yours, is it?”</p><p>Softening some, she sat on the end of his bed murmuring, “No.” She finished off the jet he left behind, looking uncharacteristically exhausted for Fahr. </p><p>“Hey, what’s kickin’ ya in the teeth, sister?” Scooting to sit next to her, John nudged her with his shoulder, attempting to lighten up the mood. “I ain’t the best at what I do,” she gave him a heavy side-eye, but still inclination enough she was willing to listen to what he had to say, “But before Goodneighbor, comes you.” He finished. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, are you okay?” He repeated, stating it matter of factly. </p><p>She nodded, chin in her hand. “No casualties, MacCready was still here so he helped us out from his sniper’s nest.” Glaring at her bangs settling in her face, she blew it away muttering, “Nora left town this morning.”</p><p>“I’m aware.” Hancock gritted out, snatching his cigarettes from his bedside, using it as an excuse to get away from the conversation. “Didn’t say where she was goin’ did she?”</p><p>Fahrenheit laughed then, bitter and biting like a viper striking at its food. It was such an angry sound it startled John to sit up straighter. “No.” She snapped, wrenching her gaze to stare John down knowingly. “She pulled you on you, huh? This what this is about?”</p><p>John lazily shrugged. “I always get too high-”</p><p>“You missed a whole super mutant raid because you were so blitzed,” She argued with a glare. “Even on your worst days, you would be front line havin’ the time of your life.” Glaring with heat enough to blaze up the sun itself she said, “You could have let us down today had someone died, John. I need you to really let that sink in-”</p><p>Hopping to his feet, He paced before her drawing his fingers over the top of his head hissing between his teeth, “I get it. I fucked up, anything else?” He demanded, angling his head at her to return the evil simper. “Truly. Let me know, in case I forget to add that on my chain of shit things John does.”</p><p>Regretful silence sat between the two like a behemoth, Fahrenheit now focused on the door she came in with a squared jaw. “Are you okay?” She asked cautiously after a moment, setting her pride aside. “Didn’t think you and her had anything serious. You get your dick wet about any cute girl. Why is she different?”</p><p>“She fucked my brains out.” He confessed though it was more of a brag. His dark eyes glittered with a dark seduction, Fahr shuddered in horror. Biting on the inside of his cheek, he sighed out heavily muttering, “Guess I’ll just have to wait-”</p><p>She threw her hands over her ears humming in a growl to drown out whatever else her father was spewing. He was smirking at her, and just like always, her anger faded and erupted into laughter. “Gross.” Rubbing her palms across her lap, she looked down at it when she spoke. “You’ll find someone else. She hardly stops by anymore, anyways. You’ll forget about it in no time. Or it’ll give you something to jack it over, just…” Facing him again, she sniffed. “Remember you are the leader of this motley crew. We need that.”</p><p>John would be lying if he didn’t hang around the Third Rail more than his usual routine, is hoping to spot Nora again. MacCready simultaneously played dumb when he asked about her, knowing the young Gunner had more contact with her than he himself did. “Wish I could tell ya, Hancock.” Joseph drawled, nursing the beer in his hands. “I don’t know either. Good luck.”</p><p>The mayor glared him down, before turning his sharp eyes on the liquor wall behind the counter. “Thanks, though, kid. You’re a good one.” He chugged down the remainder of his whiskey, breathing out when the burn sizzled down his throat and collected in his sore abdomen. He spotted a raider sitting at the end of the stools, eying her ass when she got up. He’d be busy tonight, he decided. </p><p>Following his line of sight, the sniper grimaced at the soiled woman’s appearance knocking back the rest of his malt hissing out after, “Did you guys ya know… Fool around?” The question was unusual for him, to pry in his matters like that.</p><p>Snapping his attention back to him, John chuckled, “News gets around doesn’t it?” He shrugged. “Yeah. Just don’t go tellin’ everyone else. That’s her business as much as mine.”</p><p>He groaned, much to John’s shock. “I owe Deacon fifty caps.”</p><p>Cocking up a bare eyebrow he demanded, “Don’t tell me you guys were betting on that.”</p><p>Smiling that familiar handsome grin, MacCready laughed. “Ain’t nothin’ better to do around here.”</p><p>“Deacon saw it didn’t he?”</p><p>“He plays spy better than anyone else.” The sniper confirmed with a wider grin, borderline laughing when Hancock muttered curses beneath his breath, indulging in the memoirs he’d put in the press after he killed him. “Nothing really gets past him, we were wonderin’ how long it’d take before one of you caved.”</p><p>Jutting up his chin, lifting his glass to the robot before him, “Wasn’t that obvious was it?” He asked, angling his chin to take in the young father with a worried frown. </p><p>He shook his head. “It was expected of you. You’re John fuckin’ Hancock.”</p><p>Right. It was John Hancock. His smile slowly dropped, sipping on the new glass the moment the cup was set before him. “Yeah.” He hissed when he finished his drink, turning in his stool. His boots thumped rhythmically to the floor approaching the grungy woman and doing what he did best. He hit the jet two inhalers deep, it made it easier to think about Nora that way. When her fingers threaded through his leading the way to the Statehouse, he didn’t miss the bald man in the Neighborhood Watch costume standing right outside Daisy’s shop giving him a glare he couldn’t forget, even behind the ominous shades. </p><p>Fucking Deacon. He knew everyone’s dirty laundry. </p><p>“We have somethin’ goin’ on downstairs, boss.” </p><p>That was how he woke up a few days later, one of the guards watching him grimly with an expression as dark as the ace of spades. Glancing around, he passed out sitting on the sofa before the table filled with upper and downers he still hadn’t treated himself to yet. Fuck, his game was off. “And what would that be?” He asked, grabbing his hat from where ti toppled over on the ruined cushions placing it back where it belonged. </p><p>“We found an Institute synth here in town, we’d been watchin’ him for a while. We found him in conversation with a courser.” </p><p>The ghoul’s eyes bulged three times the size of his head. “Are you certain-”</p><p>And from over his shoulder came a very stoic appearing Nora, dressed in light leather armor, knife brandished on her hip opposite of the revolver on the other. “Absolutely.” She answered, looking to the guard to Hancock’s bewildered open-mouthed gape. “We were able to reprimand the coarser. MacCready helped take him out.”</p><p>Fuck, John really owed this kid some caps, and whatever cigarettes he wants to bum off of him now. “Holy shit…” He breathed, taken aback by finding Nora here, and the information spewing out to him right now. “He bagged an Institute courser? Bloody fuck…” He mused, unable to fight that amazed grin across his face.</p><p>Nora tried to remain the best to be professional, but her lips quirked up at the ends in reply, the familiar blush giving her away. “Deacon might’ve helped.” She hinted, and John understood then that this woman was doin’ some Railroad runnin’.</p><p>“Guess we gotta get down to business, huh?”</p><p>Nora walked up to him when he was dragging his blade’s edge along a pumice stone to sharpen it, nudging him on the arm with her shoulder. He spared a glance at her, voice soft and thick like warm honey being drizzled on waffles, “What’s up, sister?” Examining his reflection in it, swiping it against paper to assure maximum efficiency for slitting a little spy’s throat.</p><p>She fought back a shudder from how marvelous it was to hear the cigarette smoking drawl. “Wanted to make sure we’re okay.” She responded, curling those gentle fingers around his wrist to halt him from his activity. </p><p>That little bit of contact made his heart stutter in his chest, and he had to clear his throat to keep from sounding like he was hocking up a piece of unchewed brahmin meat. Taking in a slow breath through his nose holes he faked that calm, cold demeanor of a murderer, a scoundrel. “We’re golden, ponyboy.” He winked at her, feeling her fingers linger on his ruined skin even minutes after they dropped away. </p><p>She relaxed, though not completely. One thing John noticed was she always carried a weight that drew her shoulders down to her chest, a harrowing tale that he still didn’t know too well. Something about her son being missing, a dead husband. There was something she knew she wasn’t speaking about, though. “Just making sure. I didn’t mean to leave so fast, I didn’t want you thinking I regretted what we did.” She explained, fear drenching in her eyes when that evil grin crawled across his face, satisfied with the fineness of his hunting knife.</p><p>“Can’t blame ya.” He sheathed it away, swooping over to her in one suave step, fingers caressing the back of her neck when he tilted her chin up, lips brushing hers when he spoke, “You’re one dangerous woman, Nora.” The lust in his tone was enough to make her knees weak, her eyes so enchanting with how naive she appeared. Flabbergasted, he guessed. The back of his fingers traced around the precise curve of her jaw, longing embedded in the tender touch. Swallowing thickly, she looked away from his intense gaze just for him to redirect it with a curve of his digits beneath her chin.</p><p>His eyes had a yearning, for something she hadn’t seen in a while. It was a hunger, and for what, she could only guess. She caught her lower lip in her teeth for a moment until his thumb ran right beneath it, applying pressure to make her release it with a tender pop. Nora thought, for a moment, he would plant one on her. Instead, he just chuckled with a soft huskiness, turning on his heels. “We got work to do there, Sunshine.” He chided. “Let’s get to it, yeah?”</p><p>Nora sat, entranced in John's sensual vigor for a moment, her stomach rumbling nervously. For the fact just with that little show of affection, she was ready to tackle him and there, and it left her more confused than when she left that early morning about what exactly his intentions were if they were innocent, or something more sexual than she wanted.</p><p>The walls were leaking from where the mirelurks made a home those months ago when she blew through Bobbi’s plan, it was nice to see that Goodneighbor had made a little jail below those walls. And soon, she’d find out, no one could hear any bloody scream of pain. The moment the door shut behind her and John, it was like a veil of darkness shrouded over them, MacCready, and Deacon. He sat leaning up against the opposite wall in his usual T-shirt and jeans, his face drawn blank where his shades hid the temperament. He had a decent poker face, only Nora could pick up on how uncomfortable it was between her, him, and the mayor.</p><p>Deacon wasn’t a fan of the mayor, while he very much respects what he’s doing, he knew something he wasn’t willing to fess up about. She was aware Hancock had a mean streak when it came to partners, commitment, anything that wasn’t violence, and Goodneighbor itself. It showed now when John smiled over at him like a cheeky schoolboy that got busted in the act of something he definitely didn’t need to be doing. Deacon simply nodded in return, turning to stare at the courser sitting on a backless stool, ankles, and hands cuffed while his body leaned at an angle that had to be killing him at this point. </p><p>“How do we know he isn’t gonna just disappear right away?” John asked, blinking in confusion as he turned to look at Deacon. “After all, this is your forte, friend.”</p><p>Deacon’s mouth twitched, but if he was bothered, that was his only dead giveaway. “Mr. Guns for Hire here knocked his chip a little loose, lucky for us.” He announced, clapping his hands together and gliding the palms like a supervillain. "Got the job done though, Deacon." The sniper bit back at him.</p><p>“We already got started, shouldn’t be long before his muscles end up giving upon him. He’s been stuck like that for a good couple of minutes.”</p><p>Nora tilted her head, looking from the courser, to him. “Does… That do anything?” She wondered though she felt the question was too stupid to be voiced aloud. Not like torture was something law school prided themselves on. </p><p>“Starts with the internal organs,” John spoke then, motioning to the synth with the tip of his blade. “They cramp up, kinda like doing crunches too long. A little worse for wear though.”</p><p>Deacon nodded in agreement.</p><p>Almost forgetting his presence, MacCready cleared his throat alerting the three he was still here. “If it gets too bloody, I’m leavin’.” He warned. “I like killing synths as much as the next guy, but there’s only so much brutal I can take in one sitting.”</p><p>Deacon snorted. “Whimp.” He mused, earning him a solid glare.</p><p>Nora advanced on him, being the first to start the questions. “Who are you?” She demanded, fury coiling up in her stomach like a serpent. </p><p>Instead of answering, the synths chin tilted in her direction revealing a set of perfect teeth behind his snarl. She waited a few minutes of awkward silence, thankful she couldn’t see the anger behind his usual empty face. That was most chilling of all if Nora had to choose. The Institute prided themselves on making coursers cold, emotionless warriors. This was the first one she encountered that displayed something so inherently human.</p><p>Stalking forward, Hancock wrenched his fingers in the man’s hair from behind, blade to the man’s throat. “I believe the lady asked ya a question.” He sounded too nonchalant and pleased considering the killer in his eyes was thirsty for spilling blood. “Kind of rude not to respond, at least here in the Commonwealth.”</p><p>When he swallowed, the blade tickled his Adam’s apple, even nicking it from how pointy it was against something as soft as skin. He must’ve felt it, because he fidgeted, his breath becoming more labored, pained. “I speak to no filthy outsider.” He announced though it was struggled out like the man had been running a while. </p><p>“Aw, c’mon, pal.” Deacon chorused, rounding Nora’s flaccid figure. “We just wanna talk, yeah? You took a few of my friends out a while back, and you still came back? Why?”</p><p>Nora’s eyes flickered between Deacon and the synth, and John noticed how she scooted closer to him, taking a defensive step forward as if to run to protect him at the first sign of danger. He ignored the stabbing jealousy in his gut, using that to fuel his dirty deed of the day. “I ain’t gonna kill ya, we’re gonna drag this out as long as it takes. Might cut ya here and there, break a few bones…” Enunciating his promise, he dropped his free hand to two of his fingers snapping it back like the dead twigs littering the commons.</p><p>The sound was enough to make Nora cringe, MacCready made an impressed if not nauseous sound and the courser had no sign of reaction besides an audible grit of his teeth. Deacon seemed just as patient as ever, and it smacked her in the face then that this was not the first conference like this he’d been a part of. “We can do it so much easier. What’s your code name?” He asked, composed.</p><p>“XJ-46.” The courser croaked, leaning over to a regular sitting position when Hancock kicked the stool up with his foot to sit at that uncomfortable angle, forcing the synth to remain in the achingly painful stance. </p><p>“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” John purred in his ear, dragging the blade from his ear down to right below his jawline drawing an impressively narrow cut, the depth of it open like he’d applied enough pressure to gut a radstag. “Why were you here?”</p><p>“No more lies about running to the Institute.” Nora piped up then, voice boldly with a vicious acid that didn’t belong to someone pure like her. “We know the research you do, why were you sent to Boston? What do you know about the Railroad?”</p><p>Ah, Hancock thought. She was playing spy with Deacon, here. </p><p>The synth grinned, blood dripping to coat the stool and the floor beneath him from the action. She saw the cut widen when he did so, the flesh exposed like jello and special effects props at a horror house. “Nora Thorsby.” He purred, snapping his head right in her direction.</p><p>Nora’s blood ran cold at the mention of a name long forgotten. It must’ve shown on her face, the resilient surprise. She knew this courser couldn’t see it, but she could practically feel the hatefulness weeping through the blindfold. She wondered hopelessly if there was a chance he could see her through the mask on his eyes. </p><p>“You have three seconds to respond, and I break the rest of your fingers on your left hand,” Hancock warned in his opposite ears now. “Then I start removing them knuckle by knuckle.” He traced his hands down to the middle and index finger on the synth’s already mangled hand, “And I keep them in a pretty jar to display if you bring more of your fiends to this party, ya dig?”</p><p>“The Institute has more brutal training tactics than this.” He bit out, lashing out like a chained dog being restrained on a choke leash. “Do your worst filthy, ghoul. There’s plenty more of agents like me, killing me won’t do a damn thing.”</p><p>“Yet you defend people who make you no more than a disposable piece of garbage.” MacCready cried, “For fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“You cursed.” Nora gasped, Deacon facepalming in response to that.</p><p>“I spit when I hear your name.” The synth seethed, sweat now rolling down his cheeks, caking his curly hair to his forehead. “To think the father’s legacy - is going to waste, waste because of some human experiment that wasn’t meant to survive. You think you’re doing this whole world a favor, playing hero to the wastes. You’ll die like the rest of them.”</p><p>“Bold of you to assume that in the situation we’re in.” Deacon noted sardonically, though the anger spittled up when his smile turned to a flat line. “Do your worst, Hancock.”</p><p>Hancock snapped the two awaiting fingers back, his hunting knife grazing the knuckles of the original ones he broke when Nora’s voice rang out, “If you were sent to kill me, I would be dead by now.” Her voice shook, her eyes glistening with raging tears that she refused to let fall. “What intel did you fucking gather on me and my people?” With each word she got louder, stalking forward to yank the knife straight from John’s fingers.</p><p>She edged the man’s chin on the flat side of the blade, her lips yanked back in a feral scowl that really shouldn’t have made John’d dick twitch as bad as it had. “I went kicking and screaming into the vault. I came out like that, and I’ll fucking die like that before I submit myself to some filthy scoundrels who think to kill and replacing lives will save it. I chase this down before the bombs dropped, the Institute. How long has it been around?”</p><p>“Over two hundred years. Your sweet husband, you think he wasn’t a part of it? You think he was kept blind in his position in the army, Nora?” John was tense as a board behind him, eyes on him instead of the pissed off woman before him. He didn’t wanna see the murderous gleam in them. “He was in on it too.”</p><p>With a brutal shriek of a banshee, she brought the knife down on his arms, forgetting just how sharp John prepared it to be. A wet squelch echoed around the room when she severed each limb earning a howl of pain that echoed off every four walls reverberating in her spine. “Save your sounds.” She hissed through her teeth, taking hold of his hair and wrenching it back. “You are cold, heartless, and just as gutless as Shaun. Evading questions.”</p><p>She was aware of how psychotic she was sounding, coated in the coursers synthetic blood, watching it pour out of him in a way that definitely wasn’t safe. His sound drowned out to pained moans, no doubt suffering blood loss. “You’re gonna die like the scum you try to replace, isn’t so nice is it?”</p><p>Deacon’s hand was on her shoulder, giving it a concerned squeeze. “Nora, that’s enough. You done ruined the fun for all of us.” He tried to keep the lighthearted tone, though it was coated in the genuine fear in his tone. “I don’t think we’re gonna squeeze any more ketchup out of this packet.”</p><p>Still, the leather of the handle felt so nice when it curved into her palm. She could practically feel the life force throbbing down the blade with each droplet of blood running from the tip, over her too white knuckles bracing for life on it. “What do you know?” She demanded, panting, her voice softer as if there were a sleeping infant in the room.</p><p>“Nora Thorsby,” He croaked. “I was a diversion, Bunker Hill has been destroyed as you know it. All that help, in vain. All the rescued synths returned to where they belong if they haven’t burned in Hell like those vicious creations they are.”</p><p>Deacon’s back straightened up in alarm, looking to the door with a muffled, “Shit!” Running his fingers through his wig with a furious yell. “You’re full of shit, you’re so fucking-”</p><p>He was interrupted by John kicking the courser right onto his front, the body toppling over like a pile of blocks a toddler built up. “There’s no savin’ him.” He cast his dark eyes to Nora, Deacon, and MacCready, who looked on in a sour mix of emotions he couldn’t place right now. “He’ll bleed out. We need someone to keep watch in case he does decide to beam out of here.”</p><p>Nora’s face was unreadable, flat as a sheet of ice, deciding, calculating. “Deacon, get back to Homebase immediately.” She said, turning to look back at him.</p><p>“What about you?” Deacon demanded. “I can’t - I mean I can so totally do this without you, I don’t exactly want to - you’re an essential part of the team-”</p><p>“Hancock will accompany me, I’m going to Bunker Hill.” She stated, ending the argument with that. “I’m going to take them out myself.”</p><p>The ghoul was just as taken back at the command as the Railroad agent was. There were questions he had galore, stuck between wanting to comfort Nora, but take out these slimy fuckers of the Institute at once. “Bring it on.” Was what he found himself saying.</p><p>“Him?” Deacon demanded incredulously, unable to hold back the rare display of genuine emotion. “Nora, has this power trip made you lose your mind? He doesn’t know anything about what we’ve accomplished, or the goals each minimal assignment means-”</p><p>MacCready snapped, “Watch who you’re talking about.” Before Nora could stop his tangent.</p><p>“Who knows if they could find our base. That’s my decision.” The devastation came back in like leaking water from a faucet, her eyes glistening up. “And I stand by it.” She turned away before any of them could see her cry, John’s knife still tightly wrung in her fingers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Deacon flouted every wakeful moment with Nora, just as much as he hated being severed from her. He blamed it on his bludgeoned pride at her picking the most scandalous criminal of a mayor over someone with more insightful brains and experience like himself. Not to toot his own horn but, “Toot!” Went the train of thought around his thundering rage storming in the horizon, feverishly blazing baby blue eyes coated by the shaded glasses roosted on his nose. He escaped back to HQ like directed, after all, this was now a mission and whether he liked it or not, Desdemona partnered them up and he had to cover their ass at the very peril of their headquarter’s exposure. </p><p>Glory rambled on and on about some synth assaultrons or some shit along the roads of Cambridge, and he hummed cooly in reply though his focus was on the woman handling Institute business at Bunker Hill. Her eyes were sharp - she’d been a lawyer pre-war - she’d mentioned. And fuck was she very much contemptibly presumptuous, able to see through bluffs. However, her patriotism to do the right thing is what gave her very softness away to a spy as old as Deacon himself. She was hard as Mirelurk shell, but just as mushy beneath it as the creatures themselves. She was not someone used to kindness, and manipulation that way worked.</p><p>He didn’t do it often, but he did it enough. He recognized the genuine glitter around her iris when she faced him, a shooting star in the deepest pits of night, a beam of hope. Her lips curled, her eyes glassed over as if she may cry. “Okay.” She’d reply, voice trembling the slightest though her chin never gave way to whatever emotions were going through her mind at the time. He thanked God for the glasses - he was far from religious - part of the reason he took the name - because he could read her without her picking it up. Until, Nora’s hazel eyes whipped around like Hancock thrashing in a streetfight on a good night in Goodneighbor, and tear into him like for a second, he wasn’t wearing anything on his face at all.</p><p>It both unsettled him and intrigued him at once. </p><p>But when she came back from the Institute, she had changed. Tired - beaten - and now, just as icy as liquid nitrogen. He’d kept his distance - as close as they had to be. Kept it professional, because getting to know people never ended up well. Not in his life, not in his career, not in the Railroad. That was the night he watched the sweetest woman blister into something just as demeaning and dead as the scientists stomping below the ground. Sanctuary partied that night - the return of Nora, the lone survivor of a terrible travesty, now surviving the scary Bogeyman!</p><p>Kept alive to watch the world she knew to burn around her unknowingly. The most glacial presage, everyone she loved dead, son missing, abandoned in a land so turbulently combative with no idea how to work a gun. Deacon understood her so much better when she looked up at him from the pad of the relay, the suffering catering three week’s worth of bags beneath her eyes, tears permanently staining her too clean rosy cheeks when she wasn't under surveillance. His mind flashed him back to losing his Barbara, how his whole world morphed him into the lying fraud he truly was to this day. The way he catered her still body like a favorite teddy bear, he'd never forget that pain.</p><p>Losing Nora, however, would be the equivalent if he let himself get close, but peering up at him with shadows colored on her face... He couldn't stop himself from running to her and being that shoulder she needed in that moment, hardly worried about her being replaced looking like death had fought her and lost. She transformed into a true soldier, putting the Brotherhood to shame. </p><p>Returning from The Institute everytime made her grow stronger like a legendary mutant. She was full of a vengeance hot enough to make you believe your little toesies were freezing off at frigid temperatures instead of just melting your flesh from your bones. Venomous as a copperhead, bound together at the seams by the thin strings of Railroad missions, Institute backstabbings, and whatever fuckin’ thing Hancock made her believe she had with him. Deacon had years of reading people and caught the aloofness in her step whenever his boot even <em>toed</em> a centimeter over the threshold line. Her shoulders eased back just that much, her body orbited around him, the same way she moved with him in battle, but this was personal. A level he wouldn't allow himself to reach, but tormenting himself by watching the two of them fraternize. </p><p>Descon and Nora were business partners, just like the ones she had in Boston when she found a lead on this mysterious off-shore account one of her clients took legal action over. The first-ever reputable identification of what would become, The Institute. With them and the perilous demands of the Railroad creating safe houses and stealing synths, they tangoed the death dance of the wastelands, him teaching her everything he knew on surviving because, in the end, that’s all they were trying to do. So, if that was the case, why was he suddenly so confusingly infatuated with Nora?</p><p>He slapped himself for being this way, a liar. A masochist. He knew little bits and pieces she shared with him, but didn't know her fears. Didn't know her hopes and dreams. </p><p>
  <em>“I’m from Florida.” She confessed one night when they were stomping through foggy marshes. “I used to come out and play in the mud like this until I was eight and my family moved to New Hampshire.”</em>
</p><p>He just gave her some bullshit story about growing up in a vault. She didn’t believe his bluff, and it made the wall that much thicker between them. She didn’t approve of liars, but yet, she trusted him with something to keep him around. Maybe just entertainment, Deacon figured. Perhaps, she understood too, in her line of judicial cause and effects in her past life, and felt a comfort in that deceiving part of herself too. To his very last caps, Deacon was willing to bet that is exactly what it was. </p><p><em>“Hello?”</em> Glory threw an empty can of cram at his head brutally enough to maybe knock some loose bolts in his head back to function. “Are you even fuckin’ <em>listening</em> to me?” Demanded the dark-skinned woman, minigun threateningly aimed his way.</p><p>Beaming like a child, “Nope!” He announced, kicking the chair he sat in back on two legs nonchalantly. “I lost interest at, ‘My cool gun!’” He mimicked in a nasally over emphasized feminine tongue that sounded a little too… Accurate. </p><p>It made the heavy shudder at the memory of Deacon with a woman’s face. “I was asking about Nora.” She huffed, cutting her eyes from the Railroad spy, gun moving like her and the damn thing were now welded together. “Have you talked to her?”</p><p>Oh, this conversation. Inside, he was dreading it, but for a different reason. No, he didn’t talk to her. She kept herself so closed away he couldn’t even if he tried. She knew too little about him, even in their probe of the Commonwealth. Whatever bond they had before her visit - scorched like a string over a raving candle. She believed the heartfelt Railroad agent - didn’t believe the independent man of Deacon. He told himself it was better that way, but she dug under his skin. Her and Hancock nicked at his skin like Danse’s goddamn cat every time she forces him to visit the ex-Brotherhood paladin. The damn pussycat hated his guts, and he could say the same.</p><p>Maybe because he and Mayor Hancock were alike, or maybe because he gave her other alternatives, distractions he couldn’t offer. A road of self-destruction hell-bent on forging Nora’s legacy deep into the ground, leaving him fucked in the ass. Could it be though, John Hancock may be more invested than he originally thought? “You know Glory,” He answered the unintentional silence, tone casually conversational, “I have not. She’s been a little busy since she’s been back.” </p><p>“You’re a dumbass, that’s why.” She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief, ashy bangs falling over her star bright eyes. “You can be a friend to her, she probably needs it. She is one of us now, she’s going undercover for us to a place that could turn on her with one slip up.” </p><p>Deacon’s hair on his arm bristled at the sheer fear of Hancock blowing her cover, encouraging her to go against the Railroad’s methodical script. He trusted her - didn’t trust his charming influence. They had stiff competition in that department.</p><p>“And swallow her whole, no answers, replace her. With the knowledge she has…” She drifted off into the void, a deep pit plummeting to the ever plunging dark hole from the physic textbook Nora found for him at one of the schoolhouses.</p><p>Deacon couldn’t sit like a duck, but he couldn’t abandon the post. Not leaving his sister in arms exposed to a possible raid. She was the Railroad’s brightest light, hence her name. Glory, fittingly gifted. “Yeah.” Deacon agreed, stretching his back rocking his chair back on two legs using the heel of his feet. “That would suck, wouldn’t it?” He sighed, pretending ever so ignorantly to be indifferent when all he really wanted was to toss himself off a cliff and end this pointless inner argument he was having. </p><hr/><p>Nora’s feet kicked down the rugged grounds twisting with the pipes in Bunker Hill’s basement below. Hancock was on her feet, the fragments of the machine gun turret laying in minuscule particles of metallic glitter and ugly mangled melted balls of steel. “They’re down here - the courser can’t be too far behind.” She warned, casting a worried glance back at Hancock. “Primary rule to the Railroad,” She quoted from one of her and Deacon’s explorations of synth infested ruins, “Never have your back to a courser.”</p><p>“Think that’s more common sense.” Hancock retorted with a snort. “Never have your back to an enemy period.” </p><p>Cowering in the middle of a room were four average appearing settlers. Had Nora not given the mayor a quick briefing he’d be just as fooled as the average passerby. “Hey.” She was soft and sweet, dare he even say maternal.</p><p>A woman with a torn thin t-shirt, hair falling out of the bun piled on her head like it’d been yanked out by a pack of deathclaws flinched back like Nora had lashed her with her fist herself. <em>“Please!”</em> Her voice broke out with an echoed plea, a dead giveaway if there was a coarser nearby. “Don’t hurt us, don’t let them return us.” Her eyes filled with tears, glancing at the other escapees surrounding her, eying Nora with a sense of recognition when she rounded back to her. “You know what they do to us first hand.” Her fragile words fractured like they were shattering glass carrying through an acoustic room, and John’s sense of dread soared sky-high, not quite ghoul enough to escape the disturbing tremor that tickled through his neck when the chills sprang like bolts from his spine.</p><p>Hancock’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the woman he came with. </p><p>Sorrow wrenched across her expression before she could mask it. It wasn’t one of sympathy - or pity. This soul escaping way her chest heaved like the breath had been knocked out of her, the bulging of her russet eyes, a clear ‘help me’ signal shivering in the rigidness the honey gold of her eyes flared like signals in the sky. “I’m a friend.” She took a less defensive position, reaching her hand out to her, rotating around to them as if offering an invisible wine and cracker church sample. “I’m here to free you.” She mused, that saddened expression replaced with that inherently wicked manipulation using the mood of the room. “I promise.” She finished in a low murmur, a secret not meant to be heard by anyone else.</p><p>The mousy woman softened, her trembling shoulders unhooking from her ears, taking in Hancock’s less than pleasing appearance with that of true horror. He didn’t take offense, as much as he usually would. These people have been stuck underground with metal skeletons. John just happened to still have flesh and working muscles still attached to him, and he had calcified bones, last he checked. Just more radiated more or less. Still, he couldn’t focus on the task at hand, Hancock trusted not a move this woman made, Railroad or not. Nora owed him real answers, because apparently, he let something big slip under his ruined little nose, or the Railroad was very meticulous to not let any grain of sand drip through their fingers in terms of covert missions. Both equally as impressive in his book on either hand.  </p><p>“Well, as much as we’d love to stay and chat, we’re on a limited budget in the talk show department,” John croaked, snapping the attention on him. “Better skedaddle before the Institute courser shows back up.” His dark eyes sauntered lazily to the open doorway, motioning with his head. “I’ll lead the way.” </p><p>Nora’s lips quirked up, a sort of glimmering hope blossoming when she peered over at him with that kind, tender smile he’d seen that night. The graciousness of his butterflies from wretched self-scrutiny, and the uncertainty of who she was if she was anything like her partner, Deacon. “Someone from HQ will be coming to meet you, back at the gates.” She explained, searching the room for any supplies she could provide them with, on top of what she could hand over.</p><p>Shrugging off the strap of her bag with a lazy roll of her shoulder, she pulled out the bare minimum medicines and food she could fit in the waistband of her belt as she kneeled down on the rubbled floor. Her pipboy dangled from a belt loop since wearing it on her arm was bulky enough to give her away in times of agility, she said.. “Take this.” Ushering the bag to the mayor, she stood back up to her feet scouring him over, eyes too keen and gentle for his liking at the moment.</p><p>Mostly because he was a smart man, and she was able to blank his brain of anything important, it made him oblivious. Knocked him way off his game with a shimmy shake of her hips and a wink his way. Slinging it over his back, he turned on his boots just in time to meet a man dressed in a black leather trench coat, eyes unsettling dead like they truly reanimated a corpse into a death machine. “Think we found the Institute’s Lackey.” Said he, shotgun already in hand, stepping back to have more leverage for a fight. </p><p>He didn’t miss the knife blade sharp intake of breath when her eyes landed on him too.</p><p>“Nora.” Said the courser, voice strangely monotone, matching the flat expression on its face. “They were to be returned to the Institute. What are you doing?”</p><p>Yeah, Nora, Hancock bit animatedly like a thrashing dog was fighting to get out of his brain, what are you doing?</p><p>“They don’t belong to you, X4.” Her voice drenched with hateful blood seeping through her teeth. “This is what your great father created, man, remember? Free will?” Her fingers curled around the revolver handle like spider legs up walls. “Thankfully, father will never learn of this. It’ll be a sweet, simple,” Her lips curled into a feral smile that was nothing but vile, “Accident.” She completed with a bat of her pretty eyes, lips falling into that same methodical sniper vigilante, decoding the courser’s body language.</p><p>From the corner of his eyes, Hancock noted how her hips would shift if the courser even as much as twitched a little too much to the left. One of his suspicions was confirmed - she’d been on the inside. She’d somehow managed to get into the heart of all evil, what started her parade around the Commonwealth. Another was that he was a bit paranoid to jump to worse case scenarios. Maybe. In a flash, her revolver was level with the tip of the courser’s laser.</p><p><em> “Go!”</em> She called over to the precious cargo, John rounding to flank Nora’s aide. </p><p>It was a blur of bodies from that moment, the two battling like ballet dancers performing Swan Lake on stage. Popping mentats, the ghoul took potshots at any limb and attachments of the courser he could find while the Railroad agent before him kicked over a filing cabinet for a barricade, lunging over it like a bobcat to its prey, finding a safe place to reload. The courser stalled, stalking forward to her miniature fortress. “I don’t think so, pal.” Purred Hancock, double-barrel scoped right to its exposed back. The Railroad had regulations about having your back to one of these fucks, but they ain’t never experienced having their back to John Hancock. Pulling the trigger he dug his boots into the stone below him fighting the bucking from his weapon with each round he generated as hastily as he could. </p><p>Two rounds knocked X4 into a stumble, falling to his knee for a moment. </p><p>Hancock smirked. “Motherfucker.” He taunted, sauntering forward just in time for the Institute agent to get his footing once again like he hadn’t taken damage at all. His frown quickly returned with a muttered, “Shit.” Footing only five feet from an opponent he greatly underestimated in his cocky negligence. </p><p>Nora sprung up then, revolver aimed for its head, hopping over to pistol whip the buzzed man’s head from the side with enough force to fuck up a Yaoguai. He turned on her with a wicked twirl, shoving her up against an opposite wall with its palm compressed against her chest, palm powerfully stalled right at the start of her ribs. Hancock didn’t have time to intervene, fingers dancing as he rushed to reload, passionately hoping her suit could resist that sort of blunt force trauma before the astounding crackling of bones echoed around the room like a clap, her scream lost in her throat when her ribs collapsed.</p><p>She was soft, that John remembered all too well. Fingers running over her breasts as she slept next to him all those nights ago, he recited that startling realization. She was from a time not used to this sort of violence, exposed like she stood naked no matter how many layers of muscle she wore. It was like a bomb went off inside his mind. “I’m feral now!” He hissed in a growl that was far from human. He dove at the courser with all the firepower he had, teeth bared in a snarl as he traveled in circles, standing before Nora, blocking him from doing any more damage to her as it was. </p><p>Rage engulfed him like heavenly fire, his goal to get this motherfucker bleeding the quickest way he knew how, and to get Nora back to safe hands. He was far from a religious man, but he prayed that hell welcomed this fucker with open arms, if synths like these even have enough of a conscience to go to an afterlife. Couldn’t respond, no. </p><p>Hancock would have his boys burn this body, bury it, that way the Institute had no chance of reclaiming this one. Fuck second chances. Kicking up his barrels, blood splattered the stone walls like paint when the bullets pierced his head like magnets colliding. Wet fractures rained with chunks of synthetic brains when he keeled over. “<em>Seriously,</em>” The mayor snarled in a humorless chuckle with hateful dark eyes, spitting on the corpse at his feet. “This is the best The Institute’s got? I ain’t impressed.” He hissed, kicking the body against the opposite wall, clearing a pathway to get Nora out of harm’s way. </p><p>The deafening silence after the battle was never as relieving as it should be, any space of peace was unnerving enough to send chills down John’s spine. “Nora.” He kept the alarm from his voice when he inspected the damage, fingers going for the zipper of her suit. “I gotta undress ya, see what the damage is.” He warned her, discovering the glassy eyes whirring with the high of pain, lips parted and blue as she struggled to get air into her being. </p><p>Signs of a collapsed lung, if the life on the streets and gang banging taught him anything. “Fuck.” He cursed, settling for looping his arms beneath her body, lifting her with the adrenaline the fury pumped through his veins, stronger than fifteen doses of psycho, and twenty times more deadly with it. He couldn’t risk CPR, he couldn’t risk losing the only hope the Commonwealth had. He still had questions, but one thing he was absolutely secured on: This woman was far more dangerous than he had ever been led to believe. She was profiting from a double life with the ultimate Bogeyman, and he’d be fucking damned if this petty battle would be what piloted her final breath.</p><p>She deserved to go down in history as the blaze that took down the last degradation of the little association. Two hundred years of pillaging and sacrifice prewar, to belatedly get the timeliness to take them by the throat and make them her bitch. His smirk was as rancorous as the blood dirtying the toes of his boots from the courser omitted behind.</p><hr/><p>Ya think Deacon would let any gossip get past his fingers? Psh, <em>no</em>, he was a professional, damn it. No rumor got around that he didn’t start. When Nora didn’t come back to HQ after the synths reached the Memory Den, he went exploring to see what kind of bullshit Hancock led her into. Desdemona reported a courser with a gruesome sore on what remained of the dude’s shattered skull. There was no trace of Nora - or a Hancock, that a few other agents reported back. And boy did Deacon have a whole ass beating coming his way for letting that happen. However, he caught wind that Nora was rushed through Goodneighbor gates not too long after everyone was relieved of their duties for the night.</p><p>That was all the excuse Deacon needed to be nosy and find her. The used the stormy skies above to conceal himself in the newfound shadows, using his lifetime of running the ‘Wealth to use the easiest tracks to avoid any run-ins with raiders or the usual super mutant gang. Bursting through Goodneighbor in a settler’s button-down get up, glasses fogged from the humidity in the air due to the drizzle picking up again. There was a crowd around the doors leading to the town’s little makeshift hospital, feeling dread for poor Doctor Amari and all the messes she had to clean up. </p><p>He slid through unseen, zipping to the front of the line making it to the doors when a strong hand shoved him back by the shoulders. “Memory Den is off-limits.” The neighborhood watch grouched, rifle armed across his chest when Deacon gained his footing to stare aloofly at the dude. “Do you have a <em>Geiger counter?</em>” The spy demanded shortly, obviously irritated, the anxiety turning to anger quicker than he could possibly cope for. </p><p>Face contorting in confusion, he replied like a question, “Mine is in the shop.” He looked him over, then back to the crowd. “What business ya got inside.” He asked, eyes forward as he took a casual stance. </p><p>“One of my agents is inside and wounded, showed up with the mayor. She’s my partner.” He explained, not bothering to use any codes. “It’s an emergency.”</p><p>All hell was breaking loose inside. Doctor Amari had every memory lounger filled, Irma strolling from one to the other, the distress clearly written on her face. Upon spotting him, she clasped her hands together at the front of her, gorgeous features twisting into one of sympathy. It made Deacon wanna puke, pity was the last thing he needed. Which meant, things were worse than he thought. “Irma.” He greeted voice as grave as the heavy tensions weighing his shoulders down. </p><p>Her scarlet robe strolled along the matching carpet, her arms going around him, though he tensed up like a board used to barricade a door. He wasn’t the hugging type. “She’s not dead,” She said to him, pulling back to face him sadly, “Things just look a little bad, a few crushed ribs, maybe a punctured lung.”</p><p>He couldn’t hide the cringe. “Jesus.” He mused, truthfully meaning every bit of ill-fated disgust and empathetic pains he felt in his chest at the sheer imagination of it. “Can I see her?” He asked, already searching behind her before she could respond.</p><p>She moved aside, nodding slowly. “Just mind your temper, is all we ask.” She added. “You can fool a lot of people, Deacon. You can’t fool me.” </p><p>What? Was it that <em>obvious?</em> “Don’t know whatcha mean, Irma.” Deacon lied through his teeth, faking that smolderingly charismatic little grin. “Railroad agents stick together, there’s less and less of us every day. She’s our key.” He said, rocking on his heels, turning in the process. “I’d kind of worry about my own stuff when it comes to things you think you know, ya know?” He recommended to her from over his shoulder. “Might benefit ya sometimes.”</p><p>He came face to face with a soaked Hancock, his hat still dripping down on his soddened clothes that now clung to him too tightly. His right arm was bandaged from where his ruffled shirt rolled up to his shoulder to make accommodations, besides that, the mayor seemed otherwise unscathed. “Knew it was only a matter of time before you showed ya mug ‘round here.” Said he, striking a match to light the end of his cigarette. If he didn’t know any better, he caught the worried shadows under the mayor’s gnarled eyes, a distance that hadn’t been there before, not a look he’d strike the man possessing.</p><p>Still, he had business to handle, and a report to get back to Desdemona. Personal stuff came last, though, he was hitting two birds with one stone. He’d need Nora’s account of the mission, but that’d wait until she could fathom a whole sentence without a stutter. “So, Hancock.” He began nonchalantly, sliding his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “Mind tellin’ me what exactly went down before we start makin’ funeral arrangements?” A bitter dig that was poorly hidden in a joke. </p><p>There was an annoyed twitch in the mayor’s too calm demeanor. He sat down in a chair across from him, legs spreading as he sunk back, hands resting comfortably on his lap, cigarette dangling limply from the corner of his lips. “We handled the courser pretty well, considerin’ one of us went in a little blindsided.” He noted, eyes narrowing at him. “X4, think the fucker’s name was.” He paused to inhale the nicotine, focusing on the scratchiness in his throat rather than the scrutinized focus he knew Deacon was railing him with currently.</p><p>“He pulled a pussy move and got her up against a wall, broke a few of her ribs. We thought a punctured lung, she wasn’t breathin’ well.” His voice cracked, and the agent’s eyes narrowed, fighting that spur of jealous nailing him right in the chest right now. Hancock slipped up, tore up part of this gangster, mayor facade he paraded around. The mayor knowingly cringed, setting himself up for attack. “Just a couple of cracked ribs,” He countered, sounding more controlled if not a little desperate, smoothing it over with a tired sounding sigh, “she’s out right now. Might be for the next few hours, she’s doped up on med-x.”</p><p>“Who took down the courser?”</p><p>Hancock cracked a boyish grin his too-perfect teeth too clean appearing against the rippling crimson of the room, and his less than pleasing appearance. “<em>I did</em>.” He boasted, smoke curling around his face like ghostly fingers, tickling the Railroad’s agents nose hairs with a poisonous burn. </p><p>Unable to help himself, Deacon’s lips pulled up in an amused smirk himself. “No shit? <em>Really?</em>” The laughter that followed was full of every emotion, it’s official. He was losing his full fucking mind. “You took down a courser?” He removed his glasses gasping for air through a cramping stomach, digging the heels of his palms in his eyes to wipe the moisture in his eyes. He heaved a breath, “Oh, boy, <em>wow</em>…” He finished in a tight dying chuckle, replacing his glasses on his nose just in time to find a knife pressed up against his throat.</p><p>He shut up real quick when John’s fingers flexed around the handle, and the applied pressure he enforced reminded him of how ruthlessly he handled the course. He had no doubt then he had talents to shatter a super agent's skull to glass-like fractures.</p><p>“You don’t get to disrespect me in my town, ya dig that, partner?” Hancock drawled, any hospitality in him absolutely drenched from his face like someone had wiped his face clean with a wet wipe. “I blasted the motherfucker’s brain out, he hurt Nora, that’s not welcome in my book. She’s good people. And <em>you</em>?” He yanked away, shoving him back against the wall prickling the shattered stone into the plain of his back. “If it didn’t upset Nora, you’d be with <em>him</em>.” He gunned him down with narrowed eyes, leaving Deacon’s heart hammering in his chest.</p><p>He’s had years of intimidation practice. “If you harmed me, you’d be fucking all of us in the ass with no lube, thank you.” He shot back, pushing the limits. “Whether you like it or not, she has a job to do. She’s the only one who can go in and out of the Institute unscathed, and trusted.”</p><p>John sneered slightly at that, hooking that uncertainty up from his gut and jerking it to the surface. She was willing to die for the synths, but still, she was trusted. The balance of good and evil weighed in her petite soft hands, he wondered if she understood exactly what that meant. “What’s that gotta do with you?” He asked, backing down now, listening. He was a smart man, and this was the information he needed if he was gonna keep Goodneighbor up to par.</p><p>To solve the mystery of who Nora was past the news reports and stories told around the Commonwealth.</p><p>The spy was no fool to catch onto that. Had him by the mouth. “Where she goes, I go too. Unfortunately, we work together well. She’s my designated partner.” He didn’t fight that smile crawling on his face, a Cheshire grin that rubbed the salt into Hancock’s poor wound. “Which gets me to this point,” Deacon’s eyebrow cocked up, face going serious again, “She can’t afford to be knocked off track by distractions. That stunt she pulled, bringing you with her, put all of us at risk. Our cover could have easily been blown.”</p><p>Hancock was <em>really</em> getting fed up with the lectures. And the sleuthing way he was insinuatin' shit. “It got the job done, problem solved.” He spit the cigarette down at his foot. “Look, I get what ya doin’ is important - freedom to synths. I respect ya enough for that, but.” Digging out the smoking cherry with his boot, his charcoal eyes stared down at it, “If ya want my whole respect, you fight for a bigger, better cause.” He leveled his gaze with the Railroad agent’s, attempting to stare past the mask of his glasses. </p><p>“Now, what me and her got goin’ on is our business. I ain’t gonna hold her back from responsibilities, but she is a free woman. The only reason you have her on your side is that you got clever, kept tabs on her. Made her an ally before she could become a ruthless enemy.” Hancock studied the room she lay asleep in, Doctor Amari’s shuffling resounding through the makeshift door. “I don’t know a thing about her, do you?” </p><p>The question was natural. The longing behind the soft-spoken words was enough to make Deacon squeamish. This man was the textbook interpretation of self-destruction. Taking a combo of uppers for breakfast, finishing the night off with enough downers to knock out a deathclaw. Hell, the man slaughtered his smooth complexion to shake someone he couldn’t stand looking at in the mirror. The Railroad agent blanched, in terms, they both weren’t separate at all in those terms. How many occasions did he transform his face? Reinvent himself with new personalities that weren’t his - but other people’s he could admire. Used to know.</p><p>For once, Deacon wanted to slap himself for being so thick-skulled. “I don’t know a thing.” He confessed, wanting to escape into the floor. “You might have better luck than me."</p><p>"Seeing as you discuss her like a business expense, I can see why." The mayor adjusted his soggy hat, standing up straighter. "I'm more worried about her well bein' than the Institute and Railroad right now. You really should be too." He stalked away with a ferocious grumble that Deacon hadn't caught, going to handle Goodneighbor business he needed to catch up with and get some items together for Nora. </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hancock tried to keep himself at a range from people, loving someone was lethal. If there was anything he identified from his old life, was the love life he left suffocated in the ground like a curb-stomped raider that calculated to what built John McDonough into John Hancock of Goodneighbor. Nora was something that intrigued him but terrified him all at once. He loved the way they fit together as much as he despised it. The way her tempo matches his and the ferocity of her bites across his skin stung with so much pleasure he could get hooked on that alone instead of the prick of chems in his veins. Music hummed in the empty room of his office drinking in the atmospheric calm while the downers mellowed him out across the sofa like liquid spilling over the holey material.</p><p>The mayor busied himself with work and his citizens, getting back into place with the regal position in Goodneighbor because time goes on. Breaking the banks, breaking kneecaps of drifters who dared to cross his name, and ignore the nagging irritation that Nora was awake and breathing, but he still had yet to speak to her. Deacon made sure the Railroad sprang to the opportunity leaving him weighing that thin rope of nervousness and anxiety about her and her well being. And fuck, did he curse every bit of it.</p><p>“Fucking…” Complained the ghoul baring all teeth to the open void of his room, skidding his hat over his face when he kicked up his weathered boots to retire on the opposing armrest intending on getting some shut-eye. He didn’t wanna reminisce about her anymore, he lost interest in any woman or man for that matter. His favorite partner came to town, and he just - not even a twitch. Couldn't get hard if he wanted to. John hadn’t been the same since he loved once, and watched everyone he grew close to distance themselves or perish before him. There was so much blood blanketing his hands, he could burn himself to ashes and that still wouldn’t be enough to cleanse them. </p><p>Yet, here was this favorited vault woman who genuinely made him feel like that was the closest to making genuine love with someone as he’d ever get. He enjoyed being in her company, enjoyed looking at her. Enjoyed her in a way he couldn’t put into words, and losing that so quick when he just started to experience this… Selfish? “Heh,” He chuckled dryly, closing his eyes against the dark thoughts. That’s all he was, selfish. Fahrenheit reminded him that every chance he got, but he had as much taste for the bountiful as much as he had a yearning for the shoddy tweaker life and wanted the best of both.</p><p><em>“Maybe you'll sit and sigh, wishing that I were near.”</em> Sang out Ink Spots, a soft hum in the chem den of the Old State House.<em> “Then maybe you'll ask me to come back again…”</em></p><p><em>The classic way Nora's perfect heart-shaped lips felt against his throat, around him... Get out of my brain,</em> cursed the mayor miserably tossing his hat aside to cover his face with his palms. He didn’t wanna care so much. <em>“And maybe I'll say maybe." </em></p><p>
  <em>The way her muscled body arched up when his tongue lavished her, loving the way whatever creator there was above, didn't make a single mistake when it came to creating a woman like her. His name leaving her lips in the throws of orgasm, fingers gripping for him, wanting no one but him, as he longed for no other but her the moment he exposed himself to her in the best way.</em>
</p><p>And he was a fucking moron. <em>“I’ll say yes every time.”</em> Hancock threw the nearest bottle at the radio with savage rage, knocking it off his desk with a feral snarl. The fragile transmission silenced with a glittering clatter. Sleep came easier after that.</p><p>“What you and the mayor have going on,” Desdemona stressed with a strain to her throat that Nora recalled her mother scolding her after she snuck out in high school. “You need to remember - this is a friable mission we have, and you have to remain professional.” Her vein protruded from her forehead throbbing with so much swollen intensity she could feel the worry of it exploding oozing off Deacon, silent next to her with guilt plaguing him like she tacked a sign on his chest with a staple gun. </p><p>Nora’s jaw was squared tight, the green in her eyes flaming like emerald fires of Oz threatening to set every flammable object on her aflame. “I fucked up and I take responsibility.” Her tone was too impassive for as angry as her body language made her out to be. “I should have passed the decision by you guys first. However, the mayor and I are my business. He helped the best he could.” But her lucid anger dripped in the honey gold swirling like pools of death, her body rigid with fury she was poised to unleash.</p><p>Carrington sneered with his know-it-all nose in the air, “Losing one of our best agents is the best help he is, I think you shouldn’t be seeing him anymore.” </p><p>Glory held out an arm to keep Nora from lunging at his throat.</p><p>I’m not hearing the end of this, Deacon realized, sinking down in his seat next to her. I should have shut up and taken the blame for this. </p><p>Doctor Carrington bristled like a pissed off pussycat, shouldering his way past the Railroad leader reprimanding with concentrated indignation, “You stick to the plans we have, you’re our only hope of getting to the heart of the Institute and-” Nora bolted up faster than Glory could cross the threshold to split them apart, nose to nose with the man with a stony pierce.</p><p>“You watch your mouth about the Institute.” She glowered, yanking her arms free when Deacon and Glory grabbed her by the shoulders. “You don’t need to remind me when every single moment I’m awake, I’m sleeping,” Her voice trembled like she was fighting tears though her eyes were as dry as the Mojave desert. “They never leave me alone, you never leave me alone.” She seethed, rounding on Deacon to stare at him incredulously, but said nothing when she stormed past him despite the protesting of her ribs, stomping her feet against the repercussion of the blows in her middle.</p><p>Everyone watched after her with wounded expressions, Glory crushing a tin can in her fist, glaring after her. </p><p>Tinker Tom hissed through his teeth muttering, “That’s a Lil low…” Passing a sympathetic look over to Drummer Boy putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s just mad, and we’re all a bit on edge, I think.” </p><p>Doctor Carrington seemed unimpressed with the agent’s rare show of emotion. Figures, the man is a dick.</p><p>“Don’t let her leave.” Desdemona sighed exasperatedly, sitting down around their roundtable with her fingers massaging her temples. “Deacon,” She motioned with her hand, eyes roaming to Nora’s back. “We need to look over her here, Shaun is gonna wanna speak with her.” She reminded him, her eyes clouding with the demand of a command. “If she’s still hurt when he sees her, he’s gonna understand she had a hand in it.”</p><p><em>Fuck me,</em> Deacon cursed in his head, fighting the urge to grab the wall and thrust the front of his head right through it rather than deal with a pissed off Nora right now. “You got it, boss.” He bit out, feigning a lifeless smile no one in the room bought rolling his shoulders off the wall he leaned on, skipping to catch up to her retreating figure.</p><p>He couldn’t distract her from this, her control on her sanity was slipping like liquid sand through her fingers. Her little nimble digits twitched like a hole-ridden body littering the streets of Goodneighbor. Even from the back of her head, he could picture her eyes flickering about puzzling pieces of a room together, issuing an easy way out. “Whisper.” Deacon rushed forward, cutting her off from the paths leading up to the abandoned church above. “Listen, stop for a second.” He pleaded, flinching back admittedly when she whipped around like a twister on him.</p><p>Nora’s answering glare was enough to make him question his every decision, already escaping death from Hancock a few times this week. He’d traveled enough with her to understand this woman had secrets and his carcass would be just another notch in her lists of them. “You are the last person I care to see.” She informed him, piling her long hair up into a bun to get it out of her face, enhancing her focus while on the go. “Your loyalty is minor when it comes to your own protection.” She cursed, teeth bared in a scowl he usually caught her making in battle, but directed at him with full intent.</p><p>“We need you to stay here, make sure you’re okay.” The agent’s voice was unnaturally soft, dare she say even caring. “If you gotta meet with… the Institute director person…” He slid his fingers into the pockets of his jeans thanking the heavens for the fact she couldn’t see just how distressed he was over her leaving their little safe haven of this basement. “We need you to be as clean, pristine as you were when you left to avoid being detected. He’s gonna be mad enough about this whole thing as it is.” She mentioned, biting the inside of her cheek regretfully remaining professional despite her heavy motherly heart under that armor.</p><p>"I know my word means <em>nothing</em>-” He tried.</p><p>“Can we <em>please</em> for a <em>second</em> stop talking about that?” Nora’s stare became distant when she looked out past the exposed wall, staring at something Deacon couldn’t see. “I get it. I’m important for <em>missions</em>. My whole head is fucked but all you worry about is what’s being done the next day, and the day after that.” Her voice quivered and shattered like a vase fracturing on cement..” She looked him dead in the face, “I didn’t use to feel that way, not until the reality of the situation slapped me in the face.” Her eyes looked as haunted as a mansion, the cobwebs forming from the wrinkles appearing under her eyes.</p><p>Rage engulfed him like raging hellfires in a circle cast at his feet. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” From the wiggle in his toes to the slivers of coarse hair protruding from the stubble in his scalp, he froze over like a shaken water bottle freshly removed from a freezer.</p><p>“I don’t think you need me to tell you.” She breathed, shaking her head in disbelief while her dark eyes focused down at the ground. “If it wasn’t for Desdemona partnering us up, you wouldn’t have anything to do with me. If you hadn’t picked up on the vault-”</p><p>“Is that <em>really</em> what you think?” He interrupted, voice a silent increasing animosity seething into his tone like floodwater seeping under the crack in the door. His expression didn’t need to be guarded for her to pick up the squaring of his jaw, watch how he slowly slumped on the opposite wall feet from her. Putting distance between them. “I detest the thought of you <em>that</em> much?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t feel that way.”</p><p>He shook his head, looking her way when he spoke so tenderly, “I don’t think I’ve ever worried over someone as much as I did for you. Sure, my words fuckin’ - Nora, they suck. I’m a liar.” There was a long strewn out silence where it was just the sound of her breathing. Her mind was flopping about, not sure how to take that confession. She wanted to ask him, walk over and cleanse this distance that’d been forged between them, yet she didn’t move. Couldn’t.</p><p>“And the <em>reset code</em> shit?”</p><p>Much to her bereavement, the corner of Deacon's lips turned up wistfully, striking the match of anger against her chest. “That code I gave you is a hard truth. You can't <em>trust </em>everyone. Even if someone sounds sincere they could be a synth replacement working for the Institute.” He answered earnestly, leaning his shoulders back up against the wall, his heavy heart now becoming light as a hummingbird, fluttering just as viciously in his ribcage. “My relationship with the truth rubs some people the wrong way.”</p><p>Nora’s hazel eyes took life with a warm emotion that he wanted to coat himself like warm honey over a pastry biscuit in the morning. “You can say that again.” The bitter emotion of betrayal wasn’t missed in the otherwise dry, monotone response she had.</p><p>He glared at her from behind his glasses, fighting off an annoyed huff at her utter defiance and understandable stubbornness to believe him. “But believe this one thing,” His fingers curled around the legs of his glasses removing them for a moment, daring to be so vulnerable and letting her read him. Ma used to say he wore his heart on his sleeve - the glasses prevented the truth from exposing him as a secret lover of the night. “I'm in your corner. Always have been. Not everyone can say that.”</p><p>Nora bit back the shock of seeing him exposing himself like a flasher in downtown Boston back before the Big One. She’d seen him without his glasses only once, both of them crashing on the soggy mossy grass of the Slog under their makeshift beds after fighting off ferals all day. She woke up before him that morning, his belongings packed next to his head on top of her satchel. She’d seen the crystal blue eyes, matching the baby blue sky poking out of the trees above them. And he was quick, even in the bleariness of sleep, to come up with a distraction until he could conceal himself again.</p><p>This time, not even her insecure mind could convince her that Deacon meant harm to her. “Fair point.” Her soft tone answered, finally taking those few steps closer to him, unsure of why her feet were carrying her that way. “I guess I should. Thank you.” She answered, reading those eyes feeling the familiar warmth of companionship, a partner that knew her but didn’t know at all. </p><p>“Nah.” He waved her off, “Pfft.” And just like that, the show was over. The glasses were dawned on-again, curtains losing on an encore.</p><p>Deacon was stone-cold like someone just carved him from clay. “Well.” He spoke nonchalantly, clapping his hands together when he stood to full height, a fond smile on his face. “Nice chat. I was instructed to chase you down and keep you from leaving,” His heart throbbed in his chest, using a finger to prod his fingers up the slope of his nose, “You choose what ya wanna do.” He announced, turning on the balls of his feet to distract himself to take his attention away from those familiar eyes burning his flesh down to his skull from where she stared a hole through him.</p><p>“Know you don’t wanna be here.”<em> Please, please stay,</em> that geeked wounded animal inside him thrashed. “I’ll cover your ass if you wanna…” Words sauntering off into oblivion, the underlying intention sounded back and forth off the walls. “Think like a partner,” He looked over his shoulder, thankful the shades and the shadows of this crypt hid the way his eyes shook with silent pleas to have her there with him, where he knew she’d be safer- “I owe it to you.” He finished, ending the conversation there turning back to take his ass whooping for this - and letting Bunker Hill happen.</p><p>With Deacon, there were always moments where he seemed serious, honest. Nora would love to believe that’s exactly what they were, baby truths. Little easter eggs here and there to keep her going so they could accomplish the goal of destroying the Institute. Nora didn’t have the heart to tell him the alternative of turning it around instead of abolishing something world-changing, didn’t have the soul to find serenity in that thought herself. Especially not after the conversation they had, Deacon was important in her fucked up line of missions, and letting him down… His footsteps lingered away, soft taps echoing off the acoustic walls leaving her alone to wallow in her misery, sitting down on the steps where she stood feeling closer to breaking than ever before.</p><p>Goodneighbor was always the perfect distraction - and she owed Hancock a visit since Deacon begrudgingly told her on their way back to HQ, and understood he was just as concerned as him - she dared not to entertain the idea he was any more torn up than that. Nora ignored the way her heart almost went into overdrive over the madman's thoughts of seeing the beloved town’s mayor dressed in jeans and nothing more than cigarette smoke and her favorite boyish grin. “All right, game face.” She hissed to herself, tapping her flushing face hoping she’d remain her secret agent persona enough to get her through this.</p><p>Cigar smoke furled from the holes in Hancock’s face, two big pretty faced and big breasted raiders in strappy leather armor accompanied his sides while the party in his bedroom continued on in true Goodneighbor fashion. The sharp stench of chems filled the air with the shrieking laughter and people going stupid and losing control of themselves. The mayor was gone out of his mind, eyes like rice grains and his brain going to mush. The bottle of gin in his hand was empty, “Aye, be a doll,” He purred to the blond on his left, tapping the empty bottle on the inside of her thigh with a coy smile. “Get daddy another bottle, yeah?” He winked when she swayed to sit up, the psycho he slipped her taking control in her tweaking limbs like jello before a speaker.</p><p>He watched her walk across the room, eyes zoomed in on her voluptuous rear end when like a curtain, Nora appeared in the group of people looking more aghast than confused. Her eyes searched the room, fingers always curled around the knife she favored. She was wearing leather armor that hugged her figure nicely, not as well as that vault suit. He was starting to think the Railroad really put her on house arrest, shackled her to the stone floors, and starved her.</p><p>Now, he wanted to relish in the completion of the high she pieced together like two plastic buckles on a baby swing. </p><p>The raider returned shakily crossing the threshold, Nora’s sharp eyes following her until she tossed the bottle in his lap and she lost her stomach over the back of the sofa. Her stare landed on him shortly after, motioning with a knowing swing of her gaze and a cocked eyebrow. “Well, nice to see ya, Sunshine.” He crooned over the noise, genuinely giving into the joyous spikes of adrenaline from seeing her. No woman could compare to her, not by far.</p><p>Tilting the front of his hat up with a knuckle, he untangled his arm from around the dark-haired raider giving her a vicious sneer in reply, obviously the woman he chose for tonight. “Was startin’ to think we may have to send out a search party.” He chuckled, approaching her with a fluid saunter, oozing so much charisma even in his fucked upstate, he was really a terrible man.</p><p>Nora tried to fight the sparks of jealousy seeing him with other women, but Deacon did tell her he had a rep, and she could see exactly where she was standing. She was right to keep that fantasy at arm’s length. “Well, there’s a party.” She hummed, looking around at the crowds of people she physically wrenched away from when they brushed her. The noise was thunderous like tides of jet screams piercing her ears like needles. </p><p>Picking up on her sour mood, Hancock’s lips pulled up into a crooked smile leaning down to yell in her ringing ears, “Why don’t we head to the balcony, eh? More privacy wanna see how my favorite little popsicle is doin’.” Flashing a kind smile that fooled her every fucking time, she agreed.</p><p>Nora had to hand it to Hancock on this idea, the moon sat right there on the edge of the shops’ roof, the music, and chaos inside nothing more than a dull murmur while the two of them outran it. She leaned against the banister, counting every crater she could spot listening to the comforting crackle of Hancock’s cigar he was still chiefing on, joining her side with nothing more than an offer to hit it too. </p><p>She turned it down with a crinkle of her nose, sipping out of the bottle he still had yet to touch. “Don’t smoke too often.” She finished politely, the bottle clinking like a water droplet when she knocked the liquor back. Hancock watched her, mesmerized by the otherworldly glow of her aura in the dull pulse of the moonlight above them. Blaming it on the chems, he looked down at the lively town below. “So.” He croaked, fingers curling over the banister. </p><p>“So,” Nora responded steadily, eyeing at him. “I’m alive.” She beamed, though it was as insincere as an unreliable thief. She couldn’t shield the adumbrations of her past she fondled like a blanket unable to outrun it. Not capable of incinerating it away like John chose to. </p><p>“Just because ya breathin’ don’t mean ya alive, doll.” Ashing the embers over the deck like God bedewed snow down on the Earth, “Mind tellin’ Ol Johnny Boy the truth? I’m an advocate for the lost and broken, friend.” Let me be there for you. “Ya ain’t nothin’ but a mystery to me, Sunshine.” He countered, dipping his chin with a bare eyebrow lifted, interest twinkling in his appreciations. “I’d like to know the woman running rampant and raining shit on the Commonwealth.”</p><p>Where to start? Was it meriting revealing her complete life story? Nora took rest in the burn of the scotch, hissing against the flame she gulped, “One day.” She acknowledged. “Just can’t seem to stay on track, chasing things I think are right, but end up being wrong.” She summed up feeling the tightness in her chest. “The drama just keeps getting bigger and bigger, can’t escape misery.” Her fingers vibrated, the edge of her sanity blundering away the more the idea of being a pawn cured in her gut like a smoked Brahmin,</p><p>Her first couple of visits to Goodneighbor made her the strongest, Fahrenheit had no problem talking and tearing her down like she wasn’t fighting against the greatest boss everyone else panicked away from. Still, she hadn’t felt like such a weak opponent until recently, when the real loneliness settled in her stomach like a familiar friend. “Felt that friend,” Hancock commented, worriedly inching closer to her, unable to fight that orbit this woman had.</p><p>There was always a wall, no matter how naked he got her, how deep inside of her guts Hancock dug like the sex heathen of a man he was, she was still guarded. Always wearing a face, a smile, feigning the character the Commonwealth either shaped her out to be - or whatever business she had that left him on the outside looking in. Looking in was a full understatement, he could hardly see through the dust scratched window of the demolished nuclear-eaten houses around here. Hancock knew not a thing - and made it that much more frustrating. Why does he want to dig so in-depth about Nora? Figure out this prewar popsicle that was a fine figure of beauty time truly long forgotten. </p><p>She was pulling all his cards back on him, challenging him, prepping his drug kitchen for a surge of caps he was ready to spend just to make her smile. A true leader of the streets - and the offices, lavish her in the velvet soft pre-war clothes he could caravan to the Commonwealth from overseas. Steal her heart old school style - Deacon could eat his heart out. Fahrenheit snorted at his obvious abuse of abundance he chose to throw around occasionally and scowled when she spotted Nora from the streets below the balcony. </p><p>Silenced caked over the two while the music thrummed like a dull headache in the back of the Old State House, Nora’s thoughts fading when the drinks morphed her blood into seventy-five percent alcohol. “I am glad to see you’re okay. The Railroad swept you away, though maybe the Institute done grew a set of balls and dared wrangle you in like a rabid Brahmin.” The ghoul gruffed a chuckle when she glared at him, swatting at his arm with a whine low in her throat. “Whatcha mad for, pretty?” He purred, swooping in until he stared down at her, lower back bracing against the rugged wood of the banister.</p><p>The indigo starry nights were replaced with the two-toned charcoal and gray of Hancock’s eyes, her fingers curling around the beam to balance herself. His fingers cradled her chin, lips brushing her jaw when his free hand dug out the cigar he was puffing on setting it in the hoof of the ashtray on the poker table. “Now, really,” Nora’s breath caught in her throat when his hypnotizing scent of chems, gunpowder, and minimal herbs stung her nose in the best way. Like hooks, his sensual aura wrenched her in by her nostrils, yanking her to her knees faster than something she could ever think to account for.</p><p>Smirking down at her taken aback expression, he nipped at her neck his breath hot and ticklish against it, “We both know that delicious fight in you.” Hancock sounded like his mouth was truly salivating, words slurring sloppily like drool accumulated behind his lip. But that steady gravel was back in his tone, “I’d tear the whole fuckin’ Commonwealth to find ya, woman.” He promised.</p><p>“You’re full of shit.” Nora chuckled in disbelief, though she knew that murderous drive in him. “I don’t need to be rescued.”</p><p>The moan deep in his throat was enough to leave her dripping obscenely, “Damn right.” He nipped at that little spot below her ear causing her jump,  but his hot chuckle on her cheek was enough to comfort her and ease her like muscle relaxers, besides feeling him pressed up against her in all the best ways that summed up to one big drug. “But just know that promise is there.” His thumb pressed right against her throat when he cupped her neck raining gentle kisses she would never expect a man like him to possess up to the corner of her mouth. </p><p>Nora was quick to blame the liquor the moment their lips found each other and his full fingers wound around her neck possessively, stealing the very breath that ached her enough to catch. Now she had a white-hot itch and soreness that only John himself could cure, and she pretended for a second, for a minute, this was normal and she wasn’t falling deep in the pit of what could be the biggest mistake of her life. </p><p>“Ya ever tried jet?” </p><p>Nora looked appalled, very much aware of what the chem did after helping beloved Cait overcome her addiction. “U-um. Nah.” Nora waved it away, mind flashing back to a time that seemed like a year ago - but were now two hundred years forgotten. College, the weed, the booze. Her mother’s drugged tangents- “No. My uh. Personality is too addictive.” She admitted. “If I get hooked-”</p><p>Hancock silenced her with a tender kiss on the hipbone exposed below the bandages her helped her re-wrap, laying his head on her plush thigh in his bedroom, party long dead with the remnants of shredded drapery and bottles of fuck-knows-what littering the floors in the long hours of the early mornings. “I ain’t gonna force ya, freedom of choice ‘round here.” Cocking up a bare eyebrow at her, “My people and I are scoundrels, but won’t ever be for knockin’ ya for not wantin’ to do nothin’ ya don’t consent to.” He placed the inhaler at his lips, unable to hide the shit-eating grin spreading on his face like cream cheese icing on a warm cinnamon roll.</p><p>Nora cracked up laughing then. “You’re just happy to have it all to yourself ain’t ya?” She questioned, brunette locks falling out of the bun he sloppily pulled up so he didn’t get it tangled in her wraps. </p><p>“Maybe ‘m jus’ enjoyin’ that nice little view I got here.” He responded, hazed eyes twinkling with delight like a kid eying a fresh piece of cake.</p><p>Blinking a few times, Nora swallowed that ball of anxiety rising up in her chest. “Think the chems got to you a little.” She lied, pretending to fan him with a book from nearby. “Really.”</p><p>He frowned then, sitting up at the waist with a curious stare. “Look, havin’ a man like me around as a friend - I-it gets confusing.” He began, his hat long abandoned as it toppled off the opposite end of the bed where his head had been on her lap previously.</p><p>“You’re not dumping me right now.” She teased, partly hoping it was true for her poor sanity’s sake.</p><p>“Listen,” He snapped, rising to his feet to fish for the packs of cigarettes he just knew he left on the bedside table somewhere. “When ya got someone like me around, I don't mean no harm by it.” His fingers threatened to tremble when the psycho made his nerves worse for wear instead of helping him to keep from slipping out of his skin at this confession he should keep bottled away. The flickering flame at the end of his cigarette almost gave him away. </p><p>“With you, however…” He continued, sitting back across from her. “I like what we got goin’. Don’t know what it is, friends, fuck buddies,”</p><p>Nora cringed at the term feeling like she got a blow to the stomach for some reason.</p><p>Hancock smiled over at her. “I like it. I like you, ya pretty little grooves ya got.” He finished, inhaling and turning his face away to blow out a ring of smoke. "And I'm damn glad ya made it out, had me..."</p><p>Curving up a curious eyebrow, she got on her knees, leaning closer to him. "Had you what?" She asked, unable to help the exciting question.</p><p>Nora memorized every scar carving the Mayor’s face like a bend on a river like the Red Canyon. His two-toned eyes glazed over with the desire of chems, smoke curling from the holes in his face, his jaw still so perfectly angular like the rads never ate it away. Swallowing, she looked down at her lap licking over her teeth, nervous as to how to respond.</p><p>After troubling her thoughts like stumbling steps to the bathroom in the middle of the night, she decided on, “Yeah, you’re pretty rad.” With a timid smile, looking down to the jet inhaler laying on the crimson of his blanket, sitting back like she had been before. "Sorry for making you guys worry. But thank you for helping me."</p><p>Flickering her gaze back to him, he was just inches from her face with a kind smile that warmed up her abdomen, all woes abandoned when he took her by the face and his mouth attacked hers, getting lost in the passionate love under the kiss of the moon in the exposed window, her skin glistening like a goddess beneath its light while Hancock made love to every part of her could.</p><p>The closest he’d ever get to experience what love felt like. He got those words off his chest, he liked Nora. Liked the mystery of the hero everyone knew, but didn't have a clue about all at once. A woman time forgot, but it didn't know of her vengeance. He felt the power when her thighs clenched on his head, feel the haunting chills rolling down her spine when she crooned his name so softly. </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope this chapter suffices!! Not gonna lie I struggled bc I lost muse due to some rl shit, and wrote this over and over in various ways. Thank y'all for the overwhelming support and love by the by!! Y'all FUCKING rock. I'm taking bong rips for all y'all!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was such a nice day outside with ripe fall air wafting through Nora’s hair, bong resting between her legs where she rested in her lawn while Shaun slept. Codsworth remedied to the chores giving her a refreshing little slice of mommy time. Her postpartum depression was eating her alive and she was so abreast using a robot nanny to manage such simple tasks, but now the Mr. Handy was easily warming up, possessing a delightful character that programming couldn’t ever attain. More human than most of her clients. She puffed out smoke from her nose when she tore a gut thinking about Mr. Harry with the features of a pitbull flouting down at her when she yet again - won another case versus him like pulling a full house last minute in a game of poker.</p><p>Nate’s humble footsteps articulated behind her, their succulent vibrant yard munching beneath his toes, forever shoeless if he didn’t have any purpose not to be. “Somethin’ funny?” He questioned, taking a squat next to his wife, glimmering up at him with rice grain eyes and a high grin that seized his heart every time. “Guess gettin’ my medical marijuana card was a good idea.” He chuckled in that charming southern gentleman Florida drawl, snatching a kiss when she slumped forward like wobbly jello.</p><p>Clutching the tumbling glass by its neck before it could empty out over Nora’s lap and their grass, he shook his head with an amused smirk when her head descended in his lap. “Surprised you didn’t get busy on the decorations yet.” He noted, taking in a deep breath of the pristine Boston flurry through his nose. The sky always seemed to forever radiate with the apple pie and pumpkin fragrance this season of the year. </p><p>“Halloween is my favorite.” Nora lamented blissfully, eyes sagging closed as the Indica she burned engulfed her whole. “Was tryin’ to get <em> really  </em>high so I could add some grotesque gory pieces this year.” She recommenced excitedly despite Nate’s bemused, but disapproving cock of his thick eyebrow downward at her.</p><p>“Didn’t the community chew you a new one for the clown you put in the front yard last year?”</p><p>Nora grimaced. “Not every Halloween had to be kid fuckin’ friendly…” Rolling onto her side, taking in the distinct scent of her afresh scrubbed man-child. It was the tiny moments like these that Nate evoked the reminder of the limited opportunities he would take out of his day not to badger her, but instead, relish in the petty notions many would neglect. Tears practically pooled in her eyes when she sensed his right side shift, and the clinking of a lighter hitting glass embraced her with the familiar friendship that started this whole adventure of their little family. </p><p>The weed flowered around her in an opaque cloud, and Nate’s answering cough earned a glare from Mr. Jonas next door who <em> always  </em>disapproved of their foul-smelling habit. Thankfully, Nate’s position in the army granted him the right to tell the smug bastard to shut the fuck up, especially since later he had to do a speech at the Veteran’s Hall. Something only the best of the respected got the honor to do. “It’s been a while since you smoked with me.” She hummed, dark hair rushing in the fall breeze when she peered back at him.</p><p>There was a glimmer in his electric blue eyes no one could ever replicate, not by far. It was the same bad-boy smirk that glittered in his eyes like tears when he laughed too hard. Twelve years looked so damn good on him, and it was a wonder how high school sweethearts made it, how he didn’t fall out of love with her when her mess of a family made a joke of anything and everything. How he still saw her as the most and <em> only  </em>woman for him, when her own mother was too lost in the poison addicting her being, to love her enough. Respect her enough.</p><p>That was before it all fell apart.</p><p>Storm clouds drove forward like engines in a Nascar vehicle, the sun sucking back up in the cyclone of the whipping wind. Codsworth, Nate’s frantic voice, “Codsworth?” She bounced up to her feet, their bong being carried in the wind like it was no lighter than a plastic bag. The skirt of her dress clinging to her legs like she was dripping wet from how hard the stormwinds grabbed at her like feral hands. Roaring thrashed around her with the thrashing of the sirens, whether they were nuclear warnings or the call of mother nature’s fury, she couldn’t decipher in the thrumming in her ear from the force of the pounding. </p><p>
  <em> “Followed by flashes…” The distressed, disturbed news anchor echoed around in the skies like it was coming from a loudspeaker. “Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions. We’re… We’re trying to get confirmation…” </em>
</p><p>Nate’s baby blue eyes darted to her, at the doorway of their house with his T-shirt clinging to his fit body, now drenched in sweat replacing the shower he took. She never forgot the dimples in his cheeks, how prominent they were even in his most shaken terror-stricken moments. “Shaun!” He cried, dashing inside while Nora struggled to get to her feet struggling against the barricade walls the hurricane armies against her. </p><p>“<em> But we seem to have lost contact-”  </em> Static overcame the broadcast while the distorted ghostly robotic voice rattled with the windows, <em>  “with our affiliate station.”  </em>Trees ripped from the ground in the desolate winds like God was plucking mother nature’s sparse eyebrow hairs.</p><p>It was the yelling air raid siren sounding overhead, the clapping of helicopter wings whirling over her head. The piercing shrieks of innocent civilian lives as they raced for the nearest vault in hopes to avoid the inevitable doom the mechanical banshee sang for to all of New England. <em> “We do have coming in…”  </em> She could hardly still her terrified wobbling feet to slide into the cushion of her shoes by the door, tailing her husband’s heels while he clung to Shaun for dear life, all of them, Codswoth included, huddled over the TV like the Superbowl’s final timeout. “ <em> I repeat confirmed reports.” The news anchors shuffled his papers, batting away tears even the cameras couldn’t hide. </em></p><p>Nate stopped breathing, and Shaun exploded with intensity enough to match the air sirens bristling around them.</p><p>Codsworth’s gaskets stopped spurting, optics buffering and fluttering as if he were running out of fuel.</p><p>Nora accepted their perilous fate that this was armageddon, this was one of the last moments they’d see together.</p><p>“<em> Of nuclear detonation in New York and... Pennsylvania.”  </em></p><p>Nora’s horrified screams were swallowed in the ear-splitting wailing of her infant son, Nate going into father mode to soothe him even if his arms quaked as bad as the ground beneath them suddenly did. Like bulls on parade, the panicked prancing of her neighbor’s thudded through her like the bass of hooves. “This can’t be.” She whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks, glancing at the door.</p><p>“<em> My… God…” The horrified newsman hung his head as the reality set in. Dying, World War Three biting out after the war of rations eclipsed into bloodshed. Away from his family, his home.  </em></p><p>She turned to run to the outside, Nate hollering something about the vault.</p><p>No, they never made it. There was a ball of light as soft as a kitten’s paw in snow. It left no trace, no thunderous explosion like Nora would have expected in an atomic nuclear mushroom. Blinding her as the sun had finally fallen down out of orbit, shredding the planet into snowflakes like paper through a ripper in an office facility. Nate blurred into a scorched human outline when the explosion sucked him up like a vacuum in time the moment he stepped out of their sweet little suburb home. </p><p>His yells dispersed as fast as his annihilated body, Nora still stuck in a trance inside her home with Codsworth in Sanctuary Hills, somehow the place remaining untouched when the fallout blundered through like frozen fruit in a blender. Even when the perilous nuclear winds stopped its assault and battering on their land, their home remained as crisp and pristine as it had before time officially stopped, and the world as she knew it ended.</p><p>She was left behind staring at a nuclear fallout, super mutants, and feral zombies waiting to tear her flesh out like Dawn of the Dead. Panting, Nora slammed the door on it all eyeballing the chipper golden door, untouched or uneaten by time. Brand new. She stumbled back to sit on the couch only to fall through the melted springs and scratchy, scorched cushions eating at her legs like hungry roaches. She turned to run, to hide in her bed, only to find it in shreds the moment she ducked to hide in the comfort of mundane living. A time before you had to fight the fucking world to survive, and worry about when you have to re-up on your robot butler’s fuel charge, and medical marijuana expenses for your pothead wife.</p><p>There was none of that, and she was no longer a wife, a mother. Her husband died in nuclear fire, the orb annihilating him just as easy as the universe put him out, and once an innocent son might as well be dead with him. This was a horrible nightmare, a warped memory used against her to attack her already dead psyche. It was the pivotal handful of final moments in her dream when lucid dreaming melted in with the realization she was asleep. Shaun was the leader of the most horrid slave traders, creators, and crooked scientists she ever heard of. All those offshore accounts and conspiracies were hidden within the wealthy and famous names of Hollywood, leading to this big underground corporation that flourished instead of perished when the bombs dropped. Nora would never have expected one of her most famous unfinished cases to turn into bitter reality. </p><p>The Railroad agent woke with a start, sucking in a breath as a black hole ate up time and space. Her fingers tangled in whatever material was near her, soft satin sheets that flowed like water between her fingers. There was a warm body breathing next to her, one that didn’t belong to her husband. Nate was dead, had been, for a year and some odd days now, Nora talked herself down. Hancock lay asleep next to her, his binder finally wearing him down to keep him drained for the next handful of hours. She was two hundred years in the future at The Old State House with a ghoul. Part of her wished he were like Deacon and pranced the moment she even as much as jerked a little too much to the left, ready to fight off an episode with her. He was a terrible liar, but the man showed he cared sometimes. </p><p>Meanwhile, she sought comfort in the fact he wouldn’t see the tears she wiped away with the sleeve of the red coat she wore, hair tangled from the rendezvous she shouldn’t have ever partaken in. Shrugging off the fraudulent coat, she tossed her hair up into a bun worrying about looking presentable when she was back at HQ. The Railroad might’ve pissed her off, but right now, that was the comfort of home she needed. Without looking back at the mayor laying spread eagle on the bed, she found her clothes and dawned them on. She toed the jeans past her ankles, wringing them up to keep them from slipping her up when she went down the damp alleys to avoid the super mutants at this hour.</p><p>Her fingernails scratched at her sleeves at the ravenous way she tried to claw it on as if superhuman speed was suddenly a possibility for her. Finger hooked on the back of one of her shoes as she bounced out of the bedroom, she almost toppled over when she stubbed her toe on the edge of the door. “Fuck!” She hissed under her breath catching herself on the rail of the twisting stairs all the while shuffling her heel into place.</p><p>Puffing her bangs out of her face in relief, she tried to catch her breath listening for the deep-chested snores of Hancock. His breathing never halted, stuttered, skipped, or repeated the same way twice. He was either a terribly good actor or hadn’t moved an inch. Nora hoped he was just that drugged-out he wouldn’t wake until she was long gone back at The Institute. Never to see her again, unless it’s in passing. No. She wouldn’t be caught next time she came around, undercover like she used to. Undetected.</p><p>After all, the mayor was a lady’s man.</p><p>Nora had to admit, Deacon had an eery track record with intuitively picking up on her and her whereabouts. He read people like books, trained for years unknown to anyone but <em> possibly  </em>Desdemona. That was a mystery she came to peace with, that’s an answer that man would die with. Still, it didn’t surprise her when she broke out of the chem den to find the familiar drifter with shades and torn pants awaiting her as if he’d been expecting her this whole time. Then again, she would be willing to bet him and Glory took shifts to watch over her since there was no telling how long Shaun would wait before he sent a courser to track her down like a bounty. They’d scour every inch of land, turn over every single rock before they’d declare her dead without evidence. Without a cadaver to display for the next clone. </p><p>She could have wailed, could have pranced, danced, paraded at the relief that crashed through her like a tidal wave. “Deacon.” She breathed his name like a breath of fresh air, his glasses unable to hide the way his face twisted at the fragile way her voice shook. </p><p>Usually, he’d rank on her dank appearance. Rag on her for doing the walk of shame. But the poor girl appeared a mess, with red-ringed eyes and a frown that wobbled like the tides of a turbulent sea. “Whisper.” He responded, stepping forward to take her by the elbow, gently guiding her as if she’d lose her footing. “You okay? Ya ain’t lookin’ too…” He stopped to study her, dropping his hand to his side the moment she got into the shadow of a lamplight. “Too you, right now. ‘Sup?” He asked a worried frown on his lips.</p><p><em> I had a bad dream again, I dreamed about him. About the end. I should have gotten the good grace to die like everyone else.  </em>Nora just remained silent, dropping her eyes and shrinking in like a scorned child. “I need to go back to HQ, and I’m glad I won’t be going alone.” Was all she said, glancing back up at him before she started forward.</p><p>“C’mon, pal!” Deacon cheerfully greeted, rustling her hair with a fond smile. “No muties will get ya today!”</p><p>He laughed at her irritated expression. They two of them walked through the nooks and crannies of Goodneighbor’s tunnels Hancock dug out for them. “Can’t help but ask, somethin’ tells me the mayor don’t know you’re leavin’?” He mentioned, eying her ghostly expression over. All color had been drained from her face, clothes wrinkled, and ruffled with her flushed face that gave her away to her night’s activities. </p><p>He swallowed back the bile rising from his stomach.</p><p>Nora kept her truth, whatever it was. She clamped her teeth down like she was biting on the blade, taking comfort in her annoying partner’s familiar warmth. He’d always have her back. Never have <em> too  </em>many questions asked until the betting polls started. Then he’d badger and she would have enough time to lie about whatever it was. She maybe was no better than Deacon in all the stories she fed back to him. That was a mutual understanding. That in her line of work prewar, being a liar was important as a lawyer.</p><p>After arguing with Tinker Tom over the function of the water heater when she returned to HQ and discovered the hot water not functioning, Nora stomped off to wash off the remnants of Goodneighbor’s gutters and drug den chemical smell off of her anyways. He caught her the moment she rounded the corner to the washroom, clothes thrown over her arm when the stone wall led to a private closet-made-shower. “Nora, are you okay?” The question was a genuine one, catching the reflection of the martyr in his own reflection, now in her. She stared forward with clouds of thoughts in her eyes, whiting her eyes out like the demons in an old horror film. She moved like a ghost, mechanical, almost like a synth Institute slave. </p><p>She opened her mouth to answer only away before her expression could perceive her. He touched her chin, guiding it back to look at him - and she lashed like a viper. “I’m fine.” She snatched away so hard Deacon feared she broke her neck. “Quit - quit <em> hiding  </em>from shit.” He exasperatedly seethed through his teeth, the wall of frustration from his usually cool demeanor breaking.</p><p>“I-I got a code of <em> ethics  </em> too, believe it or not.” Deacon began, pacing before her despite the water running with hardly any more pressure besides a tinkling spout, but he paid no mind. What he had to say to his  <em> partner  </em> was more important. “And, we, as a  <em> team work </em>  together, not  <em> against  </em> each other.” He explained, grabbing at his head with an impatient chuckle as he paced. “And quite frankly, you  <em> suck  </em>at communicating on what play we’re gonna use to win the game.” He concluded, dropping a hand to his hip when he finally breathed out an agitated sigh.</p><p>“Nora, you <em> have  </em> to talk to me. We’re on the same page here.” He finished gently. “You… What you have to say, and…” His face twisted, “ <em> Feel,” </em> He struggled, not used to this kinda talk anymore, “Matter, if we’re gonna get through this. We know first-hand everything is tough on you.”</p><p>She softened some, part of her wanting to pummel him right through the stone wall for even <em> thinking  </em>he could speak to her in such a way. But, she knew he was right. She swallowed, her arms loosening up like someone unscrewed the pegs that had her wound up so tight. </p><p>“So just… Let us in, we know this is hard. But we can’t get this done unless you do your part, champ.” He reached out a hand closing that gap between them, Nora recoiling with an unsure step back. “Call it a truce.” He said, answering her confused expression.</p><p>She followed the visible print of his palms, tracing the curves and ridges like little canyons on the pads of his digits. She followed the length of his arm, to his face where the glasses reflected her pathetic-looking face. She ducked away from it, and Deacon caught the familiar flinch of someone seeing themselves from his perspective. Another twisted form of reverse psychology these shades proved useful for. Clasping his hands, she muttered, “Truce.” Stepping back with a small, timid smile.</p><p>Every night after was chaos for Nora.</p><p>That same nightmare on repeat over and over and over until she felt like she was a small kernel of popcorn roasting alive in a solemn pot all alone. Never combusting into the buttery goodness waiting to be devoured, but broiling from the inside out with only the voice of all her mistakes echoing around her like a carousel. And every time she would lie and bury herself in work until exhaustion knocked her out like a light shattered at a house party. Deacon stopped pressing the problem after a while, falling into a routine of politeness and niceties when they spoke, whenever she did at all. At some point, Nora just gave up sleep like a bad habit.</p><p>Speaking of, she took up smoking in her spare time. The head-spinning effects just enough to keep her bleary minded. Sloppy, if she smoked more than five in twenty minutes.</p><p>Still, whenever Desdemona or Carrington would ask, “Do you need to talk?”</p><p>Nora bristled like a cactus lying through her teeth, “I’m fine.” The word buzzing in her head like an error button. She bit back the physical reaction of the retaliation of the lie when it pierced her like a bullet.</p><p>She gladly took up missions to set up safe houses and build up their numbers, taking up with Tinker Tom or Deacon until Shaun called the meeting, sent a message for her. Her partner never pushed her when they got alone, distracting her with conversations and jokes until they returned to that dank basement, and they separated again. She wasn’t distant in a cold way, he would catch up with her periodically to assure they were okay, this wasn’t personal. Deacon had to remind himself the goal in his duty was to not get attached and let someone else’s well being become a burden to him again, but this was different.</p><p>Nora was different. She was lifeless inside, and it was reflecting on everything she did.</p><p>At some point, sleep claimed her. Deacon found her slumped in the chair in PAM’s office, brunette locks falling out of the messy pile on top of her head like she’d been pulling on it. He was able to move her like dead weight to the mattress tucked away in the far corner of the crypt. A good distance enough away to have privacy if she asked for it, which she often did. Her partner sat next to her ready to wait out the last three hours of his shift, making sure she stayed asleep this time.</p><p>The person staring back at Nora in the mirror in the killer morning hours taunted her with a forked tongue, lashing out the harshest of words to her and only her alone. Face and hair damp around her face her heartbeat echoed in her ears filling her head with only the thundering of her headache, panic rising in her throat, scratching her throat raw with claws as sharp as a deathclaw. She ached for a distraction, and her mind immediately went to the charming bastard in a red coat waiting back at Goodneighbor. The mayor who took a liking the moment she gave in to that longing of not being touched in hundreds of years.</p><p>She shouted at herself, a manic image of insanity, collapsing in the middle of the bathroom with a defeated hiccup when her tears overcame her. She was hopeless and no one was listening, and she wanted nothing more than to feel the elation of satisfaction Hancock brought her when he pleasured her, filled that hole just a <em> little.  </em>The self-directed rage smoldered to a silent, slow-motion thrumming with her pulsation in her ears, feeling it in her fingertips when she darted against the tub and folded up against it, head nodding on her knees.</p><p>Nora turned silent letting the uneasy dread secure over her, taking relief in the problems she seemed to be addicted to. </p><p>Skulking in them. </p><p>Powerless to ever escape. </p><p>The shirt she exhausted hung loose on her shoulders drooping limply like a shredded shade off a rod, her jowls hollowing out from the reduction of food since stress kept her tearing her intestines with every mighty puking episode. Her shorts were sullied in sweat from where she plunged into an emotional pit of tremors. It was silent, every gasping breath she struggled to grasp sucking even more sound out of the room until it was so loud her ears might pop from how intense the wall of stillness was. </p><p>Fingers raking through her soaked hair, Nora’s dragged her nails along her legs when another sob racked through her, knowing it was only a matter of time before one of the Railroad members would wake from their slumber, or return from a mission, and have to use the bathroom. The scenario reminded her so much of being an emotional teenager, crying in her parent’s bathroom because she got told she couldn’t go stay with Nate when she was sixteen. This though was different. </p><p>Evil ran through her veins, her very son she birthed, the gift she tried so hard to <em> conceive  </em>controlled the very bogeyman everyone feared. The person who birthed every single person in this very basement she came to love and adore at once. Lifting her puffy hazel eyes, she noticed the door cracked open, and Glory peering in with a worried frown. The heavy wasn’t good with words, physical things were more her criteria. “Thought I heard something.” She said, always crossing the boundaries of privacy and stepped in with Nora, shutting the door behind her.</p><p>She was dressed down in simple leather raider armor over shorts and a cut off tube top, always strapped just in case. She was what Glory would personify. Sassy, strong, and proudly black and ready to bring the justice of her ancestors. She had a smart mouth and talked more aggressively than <em> any  </em>prewar thug Nora had ever helped escape incarceration. But, she was also that light in the darkness. She refused a mindwipe when she was able to escape the Institute. She was able to use her darkest days to bring the sun to other survivor’s placid lives. And she did no different for her sister in arms.</p><p>Sitting across from her on the murky floor, she tucked her knees up to her chest whipping out a cigarette and a box of matches that looked like it had been soaked and dried six times over. “Want one?” Glory offered, warm eyes assessing her sullen being, dangling a cigarette to her.</p><p>She took it like a starved child reaching for a bowl of soup. Glory had no reaction, averting her gaze to the fire she struck up. She leaned over to light Nora’s, a slow lull resting between them. “Ya know, it’s not good to do things like this. Hideaway.” She finally said after a few moments of sullenness. “Not everyone is after you, and you’re really bumming Deacon out too. Like, not that he’s complaining.” She explained quickly.</p><p>Nora’s eyebrow curved up curiously, instead of taking offense. Tired, sounding like she’s run marathons for the past couple hours, the brunette muttered, “What do you mean?” Sniffing some snot back, using the rotten sleeve of her shirt to wipe it away before she puffed away on the nicotine. She knew she looked like a strung-out junkie, covered in sweat and eyes so red it made one of Hancock’s hooker fiend friends look pretty.</p><p>Snorting, the heavy of the group chortled in disbelief. “You really don’t see it, do you? The dude is s prick, I agree, I knew him.” She broke off, steel eyes staring up at the dripping moist ceiling of the church above them. “Quite a while.” She summed up, facing Nora with a tilted head. Her eyes tick tocked, reading the emotions in them she couldn’t hide away this time. “And he’s taken to you, protege kinda thing.” She noted, a tiny warm smile coming to her lips. “He cares a lot - We,” She corrected quickly, apologetically looking down at the cigarette when she puffed on it. “Care.”</p><p>Nora just nodded, used to this sort of repetitive speech. Heard it many times in different ways. “Not to mention I’m sure your little guy pal, Hancock, cares.” She added fondly, but it only made that depressing feeling so much worse. </p><p>The spy snorted, combing her hair out of her face to escape the sensation of her scraggly hair tickling her cheeks. “He’s got plenty of other women to occupy his time, don’t worry.” She muttered, rubbing her face, sniffing again. “I appreciate the company, but uh. Not really one to be with people and talk about my feelings.” She said, cheek resting on her knees. It felt good - to not be alone, though. Nice to have someone patient enough to sit down like she wasn’t trying to claw her way out from deep within.</p><p>Glory’s expression did not change at all. “Then we won’t.” She responded, shuffling to sit closer, her folded knees touching the length of her slender ones. “But, you do matter to me. So I wanna be there for you just like you’re always here for us. For me.” She smiled with teeth bright enough to light up the room. They seemed to glow in the darkened corner of the basement. </p><p>Nora’s russet eyes searched her face, wiping at the damp tear tracks drying up on her cheeks now. “Okay.” She decided finally, nodding slowly. “Okay.” She clapped her hands down on her thighs muttering, “I-I’m sorry for-”</p><p>“Don’t ever apologize for feeling. To have compassion and empathy is a gift at all.” Her grave hum vibrated in her spine from how preyed upon that statement sounded. “And you, Nora,” Her real name was hardly used these days, not by any of them. It was enough to snatch her attention like a fish on a hook. “Need to let yourself feel. I know, the Institute… What they do… What they’re asking of you, it’s. That’s a fuck-all burden they’re commanding you to carry around with you.”</p><p>“Glory, it’s <em> killing me,” </em> Nora confessed finally, tugging at the roots of her hair like they were implanted to rig her to explode like an incendiary. “Prewar values and fuckin’ untouched DNA bullshit.” She breathed, tears springing to her eyes again when she hid her face in her lap to keep them from revealing any more weaknesses. “Shaun is wanting me to be the new director, all the while having me train with his most evasive coursers, the elite of the elite,” Nora stressed, looking back up at her, eyes stricken with grief.</p><p>“Don’t forget,” She clipped like freshly sharpened scissors, snapping Nora out of her self loathing haze for a moment. “You aren’t the only one who was on the inside before.” The grave reminder sobered her up, anchored her back to earth with the weight of guilt.</p><p>Lowering her eyes, Nora muttered, “I’m sorry. It’s easy to forget when you… Carry it well.” She apologized, silence overtaking again. Glory didn’t need to say anything for her to know she was forgiven, a genuine mistake when her sanity finally snapped loose. It truly was only a matter of time. “The way he talks about us, about what we do… I-I think, sometimes. Sometimes I can give you all a reason to put me out before it gives Shaun a chance to.” <em> I want to turn the Institute around, I want to give it a new, better purpose.  </em> Her teeth clicked shut before she could stop the thought vomit from pouring out and risk her insides being torn out on the floor before her by Glory. “It’s sickening.  <em> I’m  </em> sickening.”  <em> My DNA is what’s running in every single synth’s veins. Even yours. </em></p><p>Suddenly, Glory sprung up, eyes narrowing angrily when she seemed to read the map of the train of thought in her head. “Don’t you <em> dare.”  </em>She cursed, hopping up to throw her arms around her neck in a tight embrace that startled Nora, a mortified shriek sounding from her throat, panting anxiously before the momentary panic subsided, and Glory’s warm tears touched her shoulders.</p><p>Tears of a weeping angel, Nora snorted to herself, arms slowly going around the other woman’s waist, the warmth of another understanding body may be the thing she <em> genuinely  </em> needed. Someone who didn’t fuck her didn’t go against her trust, someone who was a  <em> friend  </em>with nothing else to offer but just that alone. Womanhood. A sisterhood that was there since their very production no matter what was varying between them. “Thank you.” Nora shuddered, supplying her with a more vigorous clasp.</p><p>Glory particularly beamed, cheek lounging on the bony spines of her shoulders. “You really need to eat.” She complained. "But for what it's worth, it's what I'm here for, pal." She smoothed her hair back, leaning back to pat her cheek appraising her with concern. “Get in the shower and we’ll heat you up some of the new rations we got.” She offered, standing up like a gracious flashing swan to do such a simple gesture as pulling the chain to turn their only lantern on. </p><p>“Rations?” Nora asked, curiosity peaking. “Donations? From who?” She prodded suspiciously, russet eyes searching Glory’s smirking pierce. </p><p>“Don’t think you need me to tell you who. There’s a package for you, which is why I came to find you in the first place. Everyone at HQ is trying to get their paws on it.” Glory explained. “I think I’ll bring it for you to observe, make the decision on if you wanna put it to use or donate it to the one sucking up to right now.”</p><p>“Glory.” Nora admonished playfully. </p><p>“I’m kidding.” The heavy smirked with eyes that glittered like a child’s art project caught under the fluorescent lights of the classroom. “Sorry for being nosy. You being, ya know, the almighty prophet or Messiah or whatever the fuck we’ve deemed you as.” She chuckled. “Just new security protocols.”</p><p>Nora cracked a giggle at that, rolling her eyes even though blush crept up to her cheeks, rubbing them to hide the rosacea from her dwindling anxiety attack. “I understand, it’s fine. Thank you.” She sighed, hands dropping to her side when she turned the faucet on, ending the conversation with the thunking pipes and pathetic weeps of water. Her face twisted, then sank into one of amusement, her giggles turning into tiny little chortles. </p><p>Glory followed through, the newspaper the clothing was wrapped in neatly folded back into place, the only hint to it being tampered with was the tapered adhesive that wouldn’t cling due to underlying material stuck to it previously. Nora tugged out something so mundane and pathetic she was pleased to be on her lonesome when new waves of sobs hit. Her fingers marveled at the unaged feeling of fitted denim between her fingers. She read the tag, Gucci, a name brand Nate used to scold her for spending her paychecks on all the time.</p><p>A memory of her old life she <em> searched  </em> and  <em> scavenged  </em>the Commonwealth to possess.</p><p>Tucking the bottoms aside, she curled her fingers around the vibrant thickly woven ballistic material neatly folded as if it had been hotly pressed beneath an iron. “What the fuck.” The Railroad spy mused under her breath, stepping back to unfold the colonial duster presented to her. Already, she could see the slimmer waist on it, the personalized stark black pockets, and folded detailing. Not to mention the pure white gold cufflinks catching the orange lighting above her head in their dreary makeshift bathroom. She wondered no more about the mystery of the sender, but now panicked at the sheer thought and not to mention <em> the cost  </em>that went into her own Hancock cosplay. </p>
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